


The Secret Redemption of Credence Barebone

by LunarC



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (Prohibition era), Character Development, Comedy, Creatures, Credence goes to Hogwarts, Credence lives, Dragons, Drama, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fix It Fic, Jazz Clubs, M/M, Pining, Shy Newt, Underage Drinking, awkward times all around, plot heavy, shy Credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 55,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9065269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarC/pseuds/LunarC
Summary: Newt awakes aboard the SS Marie bound for home to find that Credence Barebone has somehow managed to resurrect himself inside the case! Unable to turn him in Newt embarks on a journey to help Credence find his way in the wizarding world. But Grindelwald and his supporters are an ever present shadow as Credence struggles to control his obscurus while applying to study at Hogwarts under a different name...With everything that Credence has done can he ever truly redeem himself? Or has Newt placed his trust blindly in an uncontrollable monster?





	1. From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> If this fic sounds familiar that's because I posted it once before!  
> At the prompting of some friends I have elected to re-upload this fic a few chapters at a time over a few weeks!
> 
> I absolutely appreciate the interest of anyone who read or commented on it the first time around!  
> Thank you for your patience!

The SS Marie was a wonderful boat so far as muggle ocean liners went. Steam powered and fairly spacious by muggle standards it boasted a quick ride between London and New York of only 5 days (a week, if the weather was bad). The exchange rate between wizarding money and muggle money was also low enough that Newt Scamander felt no guilt at all in getting a private room, since hiding his Magizoologist activities from a non-magical person was hardly ideal (and after becoming so close with Jacob Newt no longer felt as comfortable with simply obliviating a muggle right on the spot).

It was his first day at sea since his adventure in New York when Mr Scamander finally settled in for bed. His creatures were all fed and calmed down after their crazy rendezvous into the United States and the steady back and forth of the ocean liner rocking over the waves lulled him swiftly into a deep sleep. 

Newt rarely had nightmares, though he was sometimes plagued with visions of his time in the army with the dragons. But that night he found himself revisiting his childhood home, all stained wood and the smell of cut grass though its ceiling was choked by a great grey and black shadow like smoke which filled the rafters and split out into the air like a lightening storm threatening to strike. 

Newt bolted upright in a cold sweat as the boat struck a particularly large set of waves, hammering the bow, only to find something insistently tugging on the sleeve of his night shirt.

“…Dougal?” Newt whispered groggily. 

By his side, perched on the side of his single bed, Dougal filtered into view. His large orb-like eyes blinking at Newt earnestly in the gloom of the room (which was broken only by the small amount of light through Newt’s porthole window). Dougal continued to pull at Newt’s sleeve, looking back at the case and then returning his intelligent gaze to Newt’s face.

“What’s wrong? How did you-“ Newt’s gaze fell on his case-which sat ajar on his small writing desk attached to the wall. 

Something in the way it was thrown so widely open made the hairs on the back of Newt’s neck stand on end. Newt quickly settled Dougal on his shoulders and climbed from his bed and into his shoes, which he pulled on in a rush without tying the laces. Newt scrambled over to the case-then remembered his wand at the last moment when Dougal tapped him twice on the shoulder and pointed at his jacket where it hung on the back of the door. 

Newt grabbed the wand, thanking Dougal for his insight, then stuffed it into the waist band of his pants.

Newt leapt into the case as quickly as he could and was only half way down the wooden stair inside when he got the feeling that something was distinctly wrong.

Dread began to creep up on Newt as he quietly tip toed from the small shack at the centre of his case, looking left and right and noticing with concern that the usual sounds of his creatures (even in sleep) was absent. Like they were all being quiet for some reason.

Dougal tapped Newt again then, gently pulling his hair and turning his gaze to the door on his right which led to the North side of his enclosures near the moon calves. 

Not needing any more prompting Newt stepped as lightly as he could out the door and across the magical earth towards their pen. 

The first thing Newt noticed, asides from the horrible silence, was the way that the world inside of the case seemed to be rocking, ever so gently, in time with the boat outside despite several spells put in place to prevent such a thing from happening. The case was not supposed to be affected by the outside world’s motion Newt had perfected that magic and couldn’t think of a reason why the spells might be breaking down now.

Newt passed several enclosures on his way toward the moon calves and noticed with some trepidation the way the creatures within were huddled, scared, trembling and silent, in their respective hutches, nests and caves. He hushed them calmly as he went by when they whimpered at his presence and kept moving forward at Dougal’s pointed insistence.

The moon calves were not gazing at their artificial moon as usual. In fact they were nowhere to be seen as Newt got closer to their enclosure and Dougal’s grip on Newt’s shoulders grew tighter and more afraid. Newt stroked the demiguise’s arm softly as he approached the mooncalves small mountain then stopped dead as he realised the source of the horrible, ominous, feeling in his chest.

The flaps to the obscurus’s habitat were dead still, as if no wind, magically created or otherwise could pass it. Newt knew that flap to flutter, in a wind of his own making, knew for a fact that it often blew cold air out and billowed like a curtain in a breeze.

But it did not move at all.

“Alright, I see it.” Newt said and carefully removed Dougal from his shoulders, placing the creature on the ground by his feet. Newt drew his wand and crept up to the opening of the obscurus’ habitat, using his wand to push the curtain apart.

Inside of what was usually a winter’s landscape there was now nothing but dark snow and a red, stormy, sky. Newt’s eyes widened as he stepped forward into the enclosure, only to be pulled back at the last second by Dougal as a thread of vicious red lightening scorched the earth at his feet.

Newt stumbled and casted a shielding spell at the last second as a black cloud surged forward as if to drag him in. It bounced off his spell without effect and Newt dropped to his knees, Dougal wrapped around his chest like a blanket, small heart beating rapidly and afraid as the red storm in the distance suddenly roared like a muggle engine. 

“Credence?” Newt called, terrified, as the red storm above bellowed like a train putting on the breaks and a crack like thunder rumbled through the earth. The storm above illuminated pitch black icy mountains while closer to Newt a black swarm collided with something smaller, the little girl’s obscurus, crashing into the girl’s obscurus’ opaque barrier with a sound like stone colliding. 

Newt turned away, cradling Dougal with his body as there was a horrible clash, ending in vibrant, molten red sparks burning through the magical sky above them. 

Newt pried Dougal from his chest and pushed him through the flaps towards the moon calves then, before shooting to his feet.

“Go Dougal! It’s alright,” He assured the demiguise who watched Newt with frightened blue eyes. “It’s alright,” He said again and then turned, wand drawn and ran into the wet, shadow snow to meet the oncoming dark storm.

“Credence!” Newt called, as a sudden gust of wind and cold wrapped around him. His thin bed clothes doing nothing to keep out the chilling surge of frigid air. “Credence is that you?”

There was no answer until the thick black cloud around Newt suddenly solidified and surged forward, crashing through the snow like a burrowing monster. Newt threw himself out of its path, falling into the snow and then righting himself with his wand raised as the shadow rose up in a waterfall of black smoke. At its core blue and white light struggled to pierce the black and Newt watched in morbid fascination as a high pitched keening sound, like a kettle boiling over, suddenly burst into a deathly, child-like, scream.

“Credence, stop what you’re doing!” Newt cried, as a sudden, terrible fear overcame him for the fate of the little girl’s obscurus. She couldn’t possibly be redeemable within it, could she? Was that really a child’s scream?

The sound suddenly broke off with a snap, like wood breaking and Newt had seconds before the black smoke, formally a giant rotating whirlpool in the sky, fell to the snow like a dead weight.

Newt shielded himself magically as best he could but was blown back by the force of the black form crashing to the earth, thrown across the snow and rolling, battered, like a stone in a hurricane. Far away Newt could hear the terrified cries of his creatures as the collision shook the ground. 

It took a few seconds for Newt to finally push himself upright from where he’d been tossed. He spat out snow onto the ground. Completely saturated and trembling with cold.

Once he was upright again Newt lit the end of his wand with a chattered ‘Lumos’ and warily began to trudge in the direction of the fallen obscurus. All around him the habitat was frightfully black as if all the magic he had used to create his winter enclosure had been sucked dry, leaving only the snow beneath his feet and empty air in its wake.

There was no sound except for the slosh of snow beneath Newt’s shoes and his own, nervous, breaths.

After a minute of travel however the edge of Newt’s circle of light fell on a dark head of hair bent to the ground above cold, shivering, shoulders.

Newt swallowed anxiously as he lifted his wand and revealed the shuddering, pale body of one Credence Barebone, bent over himself and sobbing silently in the snow. 

“…Credence?” Newt murmured and the boy stopped sobbing for a moment to turn dark, hysterical, eyes up at Newt from the ground...


	2. Of Biscuits

It was possibly one of the most awkward cups of tea Newt Scamander had ever entertained and he had even had tea with women who had visited his home in the hopes of finding his brother only to be saddled with Newt’s company instead (and as Newt was often described as ‘annoying’ where his brother was gifted with adjectives more akin to ‘heroic’ or ‘dashing’-that had not been an ideal situation for anyone involved).

Newt had only two outfits. One which he wore constantly consisting of his blue coat, yellow waistcoat, comfortable pants etc (which were currently hanging, upstairs, in his room)… and his night clothes. Hence, in order to dress Credence he had to transfigure a blanket and an old rug into a kind of-long tunic and a ragged jacket. 

So there they were. Credence Barebone of New York and Newt Scamander, seated at his small coffee table between two scratched and battered arm chairs, while all about them was strewn with all manner of plants, bones and vials. Drinking tea out of mismatched cups with biscuits Newt couldn’t be entirely sure of the origin of. 

At least Credence had stopped retching. He still had his bucket by his side though. Just in case.

The creatures were settled now, or, less frightened at least than before. Dougal had run the moment Newt had staggered back through the curtains of the obscurus enclosure with Credence barely held aloft over his shoulders and the other animals were sure to keep their distance too as he half carried, half dragged Credence to the shack at the cases’ centre. 

Newt had dropped Credence into an old sagging arm chair, quickly strengthened the spells which controlled the cases’ motion and then just managed to get a bucket in the boys’ lap before he threw up all over himself.

Credence was still trembling, a whole body shudder which ran the length of his arms and shook his cup where it was pressed mechanically to his lips. Newt wasn’t sure what to say to the apparition in front of him so he chose not to say anything at all. Only gazing up every now and then to make sure he was still, indeed, somehow corporeal and present in front of his eyes.

Credence hadn’t looked Newt in the eye once since his appearance in the snow and still kept his eyes glued to his bare feet on the floor.

Newt chewed into a biscuit, then softly put it back on the plate as he realised it was very possibly older than his case was.

“…Credence,” Newt began, which gained no attention from the boy across from him, “…Can you tell me what happened back there?”

Credence showed no sign that he had heard Newt or that he was listening at all. Newt would have thought he were a statue if not for the way he timidly rested his tea cup in his lap. 

The two shared another long, awkward silence.

“…I only want to help.” Newt chanced. 

“I know.” Credence murmured. So low that Newt only just caught the sound, the boy looked up at Newt, a flash of dark eyes before returning his gaze to the floor.

Newt swallowed a little gingerly and sat up straighter, nodding once and sipping his tea again. His bed clothes were dry now, but not entirely ideal for a meeting this serious. Mind you, a shaggy rug-jacket and a blanket tunic were not exactly proper attire either.

“…How did you do it?” Newt asked and Credence tightened his grip on his cup of tea. Staring into its depths with his shoulders hunched in on himself. “The other obscurus-…”

“…I-I don’t know.” Credence murmured, another silence followed where Newt went to speak but Credence spoke again. “I heard it-calling to me. It was all I could hear…”

The silence between them stretched longer than the others.

“…Where am I?” Credence asked, voice just above a whisper. “Am I dead?”

“What?” Newt asked, then remembered that Credence, for all his magical power, had been raised a Muggle-or a no-mag-as it was. “Oh, no! You’re-well-you’re in my home. Well it’s a suitcase actually, a bewitched suit case so it seems larger on the inside than it does on the outside. It’s perfectly safe though! It’s where my creatures live.”

Credence eyes’ had widened in alarm mid-way through Newt’s explanation and he looked around frantically before tightening his grip on his cup and resuming his attempt to burn a hole in the floor. 

Newt felt a familiar bumbling feeling, the one which had been especially prevalent at Hogwarts, creep up on him again. As if he were saying all the wrong things. 

“…How did you get here if you don’t know where you are?” Newt asked, getting up to cover his social shortcomings and pick up the teapot where it sat on the bench behind them. Credence’ gaze followed Newt wherever he went, paranoid and frightened.

Newt was especially slow in pouring Credence another cup of tea, for fear he might spur him into another bout of obscurial destruction. 

Credence just watched him, shocked like a creature that had suffered a tremendous ordeal or a soldier in the war who had only just been released from St Mungos both of which Newt had unfortunately experienced.

“I just…” Credence murmured, staring into his cup when Newt returned to his seat. Face twitching like he was recalling something very distant and troubling. “I heard it, I wasn’t-“ Credence’s skin paled as he swallowed painfully, fingers shaking where they held his cup enough that some splashed over the side and must have burnt him though he made no sound.

Just as Newt was beginning to worry about another episode there was the sound of soft feet padding against the wooden floors of the shack. Credence turned toward the sound and his eyes widened as Dougal appeared, fluttering into view and cautiously approaching them where they sat.

“Ah, Credence this is Dougal, he is one of my creatures, a friend, he led me to you.” Newt said quietly as Dougal stopped to stare at Credence, tilting his head at the boy and then crossing to Newt’s side to climb up the arm of his chair and sit in Newt’s lap and wrap his arms protectively around Newt’s neck.

Credence’s eyes were wide with disbelief at Dougal’s appearance and appeared to have shocked him out of his dangerous reverie.

“What is it?” Credence asked, “An ape?”

“He,” Newt said firmly, “Is a demiguise, they are magical creatures with the ability to turn invisible at will or blend into their surroundings, if they choose.” Newt touched Dougal’s chest gently when the demiguise refused to stop staring at Credence, hoping to communicate through touch that Credence was not one to be stared at.

“…Is this a zoo?” Credence asked, apparently fascinated by Dougal enough to be distracted from his former mood. His hands stilling in their trembling on his cup. Newt privately thanked Dougal’s intuitive ingenuity. 

“No, I don’t own these animals,” Newt said, smiling and taking Dougal’s hand where it was clutching at his palm. “I just take care of them-for a little while. Until I can find them a safer home.”

“…You’re their carer?” Credence asked, a strange tone to his voice.

“…Yes. I am.” Newt replied with sincerity.

Dougal reached out for Newt’s abandoned biscuit on the plate and put it into his mouth experimentally.

Newt was almost certain he saw Credence smile when Dougal spat it straight out again...


	3. Introductions

Now Newt Scamander was pretty well versed in taking care of magical creatures. It was a talent, very possibly passed down in his bloodline since most of his relatives had a knack for handling dangerous and difficult to manage creatures though it had been perfected through constant study and attention to detail.

Taking care of another human being however? Nowhere near as intuitive.

First of all, Newt was not certain where to keep Credence. He was loathe to keep him with the creatures, for fear that either party might turn on the other. It took a long time to integrate new creatures into the well balanced social hierarchy of the case and Credence, though mostly agreeable, was simply too powerful and too volatile to risk near them.

Which left two options:

1.Credence slept in Newt’s room, in his cabin, with him where Newt could keep an eye on him or:

2.Newt slept with Credence, in the case, where he could keep an eye on him.

The upside to going with the case option was that Credence didn’t know how to leave the case yet and would be unable to roam the ship (since Newt had paid for only one ticket, transporting only himself back to London he wasn’t sure Credence’s sudden coming and goings could be properly obliviated without drawing attention).

The downside was that Newt was no transfiguration master and two arm chairs transfigured haphazardly into two single, lumpy, mattresses, did not make for amazing sleep.

Credence to his credit did not complain. Nor did Dougal who insisted on sleeping pressed under Newt’s chin like a very assertive pillow, with large golden eyes set on Credence at all times. Newt waited until Credence had fallen asleep before casting several spells to keep the shack silent (and stop any other creatures wandering in to catch a glimpse of their new guest). 

While he drifted on the edge of sleep Newt began to sort through his options.

Credence was alive. That was for certain, as certain as Newt saw his chest rise and fall in front of him now. The other obscurus was gone-as far as Newt knew and that knowledge made his chest ache with a sad, painful, throb. It was all that remained of that sad little girl and Newt had hoped to find a way to honour her by studying it as respectfully as he could. How Credence regained his form and if he had somehow done so by destroying or absorbing the other obscurus Newt didn’t yet understand. Though he suspected that something foul had happened in Credence’s reformation that would come to light with time.

Which led to the other problem: Credence WAS alive and therefore legally liable for the murder of two people on American soil. Technically since they were now crossing the ocean back to England they were almost out of the grasp of Macusa but if Newt was found out he could be charged with harbouring a fugitive. After his recent scrape with the law-he wasn’t sure he’d get off so scot free the second time if he was found out.

Which led to the final problem. Newt was certain of Credence’s innocence. He was only a boy, Newt wasn’t sure how young, but too young and uneducated to be aware of what he had been doing. Obscurial were caught in a net so horrific their actions were like those of wild, injured, animals. Lashing out to defend themselves as best they could by whatever means necessary. 

With a little care Credence may have never committed the crimes at all.

But two people were dead-and that was nothing to take lightly.

Under his chin Dougal snuffled and sighed, tangling his small fingers around Newt’s ear and burying himself deeper against his chest. Newt sighed with him.

“What am I going to do, Dougal?” Newt asked.

Dougal looked up at Newt with compassionate, shining, blue eyes.

\---

“Why does this one have so much gold?”

“Because he is obsessively and excessively greedy, even for a niffler.” 

Inside of his cosy, shining, hoard, the niffler snuffled at Credence judgementally, piling his shining objects a little tighter around his body. 

Credence frowned at the movement and Newt just carried on by, carrying his feeding bucket and attempting to coerce Picket out of his hair where he had set up residence in order to watch Credence more attentively.

“Picket, come now, you can do that on my shoulder, can’t you?” Newt murmured.

Picket slipped down onto Newt’s collar, still watching Credence where he followed Newt, looking around with the same wide-eyed disbelief that Jacob had. Though Credence was far more reserved and cautious.

Credence was like Newt’s new personal shadow, peering over his shoulder at all the creatures he introduced but not attempting to touch or communicate with them. Newt was a little offended on their behalf at first before he realised that Credence was very possibly just afraid of them. 

Jacob Kowalski, it seemed, had been more of an especially friendly and trusting muggle than Newt had given him credit for. Newt felt another pang of regret at his obliviation at the thought, but put it aside as he handed Credence the bucket and pointed at the moon calves (harmless and ‘cute’ by all accounts, the perfect place to start).

“Would you feed them for me, please?” Newt asked.

Credence looked bewildered by the request but nodded jerkily before warily approaching the small mount where the calves stared animatedly at their false moon. They turned as they saw him coming and ran to meet him.

Newt watched from the corner of his eye as Credence threw their pellets into the air, tilting his head in fascination as they were caught in mid-air by the calves thrall and then swallowed.

Credence didn’t laugh, but Newt thought he might have caught another allusive smile there.

In fact Newt was so sure that everything was going well he turned his back on Credence for a few seconds, breaking one of his own personal rules when it came to introducing a new creature to his case. The same mistake he had made with Jacob when he had first arrived. 

When Newt looked back the bucket was sitting on the ground where Credence had been with no sign of the boy.

“…Bugger.” Newt whispered and quickly raced over to where the Obscurus’ habitat still flapped, silent and empty.

Credence was where Newt expected. Standing at its edge, staring into the black, nothingness. Newt hadn’t had a chance to return it to its former illusion yet. Wasn’t sure there was any point restoring it to its winter glory without the girl’s obscurus to keep within. 

Credence didn’t say a word when Newt reached his side. Wand at the ready at his hip. Picket tucked safely within his jacket.

“…This is where it happened.” Credence murmured, looking around at the emptiness. Black as the night sky. Darker than the darkest room. 

“…Yes.” Newt said, “…This is where I found you.”

Credence swallowed audibly, then continued, “There was something else here…Someone else.”

“…No.” Newt replied and Credence turned to him, eyes shining, “No one else. There was an obscurus.”

“…That word-that’s what he was looking for.” Credence whispered, a panicked edge to his voice. Newt noticed Credence’s hands balling into fists at his sides. “What I was-what I am.”

“Credence,” Newt said gently, though Credence wouldn’t meet his eye. “An obscurus is a parasite, it feeds of-trauma-and pain. But it isn’t a person-it doesn’t define you.”

“I’m sick then.” Credence sobbed.

“No, not sick.” Newt tried, making Credence turn, eyes wet and hands trembling, “You’re recovering, you’re the only one who has ever managed to…It’s amazing-“ Credence sucked in a sore breath and Newt hazarded a small smile, a half step closer, “No-really-it is. You have to be strong now…Keep yourself together…So I can find a way to help you.”

“…Then there is something wrong with me.” Credence stuttered.

“…You’ve suffered.” Newt said cautiously, “You’ve been hurt. It’s not fair what happened to you.” 

Credence sobbed, once, tears dripping over his cheeks and into the dark below them. Newt looked away, a little embarrassed by the response, but then looked up again, determined to say the right thing despite a life time of doing the opposite.

“Credence I am determined to do right by you.” Newt said truthfully, causing Credence to inhale sharply and hold it, staring at his feet and still as stone. “But I must protect my creatures at all costs. While I do believe you are good at heart-I need you to be honest with me. To-to confide in me if you feel overwhelmed or frightened…”

“You’re scared of me.” Credence said in a blank voice, “You think I’m a monster.”

“I think you’re scared.” Newt replied. “And in an unknown place with unknown rules, I know how people can behave in situations like that…I want you to feel safe. As I want all my friends to feel safe.”

“…Friends?” Credence said in an uncertain tone.

Newt didn’t reply until Credence met his eye. Then he nodded, once.

Credence looked surprised for a second before he nodded in reply then looked back out into the emptiness of his own, unknowing, creation.

“Okay,” Credence murmured. 

“Alright.” Newt replied.


	4. Keeping a Lid on it

Newt had finally found Credence’s weakness.

Orange juice.

Orange juice was a very American thing actually and the ocean liner had much of it. Newt was partial to it, could drink a glass with content satisfaction though he was more attuned to the nostalgic taste of pumpkin juice or a cup of tea.

But Credence? Credence drank orange juice like he would never get another chance.

Newt would have to learn to transfigure it, since he was starting to draw attention to himself by asking for bottle after bottle of it on the third day of their journey back home. It was the only thing Newt could subtly place in front of Credence and know he would finish without looking up for permission. Newt was very slyly attempting to work Credence’s confidence up into asking him for it-though it was a slow mission. 

Newt had also managed to ‘borrow’ some muggle clothes for Credence and transfigure them more comfortably to fit him (though Newt thought Queenie would have done a far better job). Credence seemed a lot more comfortable in a full outfit, though he kept wearing his rug-jacket for whatever reason-even in the hotter parts of the case.

Credence began to warm to the creatures on the third day. He was still easily startled and kept very close to Newt and hunched in on himself in an attempt to look smaller around some of the larger, more intimidating beasts. 

However he never struck out at any of them which was all Newt could really ask for from someone so afraid of the unknown. 

It was at the end of the third day that something very curious happened. Newt had left Credence to get them some dinner (and make an appearance on the ship so the maids didn’t think he had died in his room) and when he returned Credence wasn’t sitting where he’d left him.

Newt was a little confused at first, placing their dinner plates on the table between their bed/arm chairs and walking out into the low evening light of his creatures’ domain. He was beginning to worry when he turned a corner and saw Credence sitting at the base of the moon calves hill, surrounded by tiny baby diricawls.

Newt watched, fascinated, as Credence reached into his pocket and pulled out one of Newt’s mystery biscuits (the ones which even Dougal refused to touch) and scattered some of its crumbs by his feet. 

The fluffy diricawls disappeared and reappeared around his ankles, pecking at the crumbs happily. Credence reached for one and it vanished, appearing just out of his reach and chirping loudly. 

Newt saw Credence actually laugh, a small huff of noise as he reached for another of the babies and it disappeared just before he made contact. 

Newt left Credence to his play, returning to his dinner and eating it before it went cold. When Credence returned Newt just smiled as a flash of fear crossed the boy’s face-like he’d done something wrong by not staying where he’d been left. The fear vanishing when Newt just cast a heating spell on Credence’s plate, pushed his glass of orange juice toward him, then gestured to Credence’s meal and continued finishing his own. 

They ate in silence then, but it wasn’t awkward.

\---

It was a day later when Newt finally relented and asked Credence if he wanted to leave the case. It felt cruel to keep him there, especially knowing that Credence would never ask Newt since Credence seemed too nervous to ask him for anything.

Credence looked up at Newt from where he had just finished feeding the niffler (who now had added three shiny orange juice caps to his hoard) and then straightened, wringing his hands where they held the feeding bucket. 

“…Isn’t that-dangerous?” Credence asked, not meeting Newt’s eye.

“I don’t think so.” Newt said, “Not if you wear your lapel up, you can borrow my scarf, no one should recognise you.”

“I didn’t mean for me.” Credence said. 

“…Oh.” Newt stopped where he’d been hand feeding the occamy, frowning, “Well…I mean, do you feel-anxious?”

Credence glanced up at Newt, his brow raising only a little.

“…I mean more anxious than usual?” Newt went on, embarrassed and returning to his task.

Credence swallowed and shrugged, knotting his hands together.

“I don’t want you to feel trapped here Credence.” Newt said, gently placing the last fed occamy back comfortably in their nest. “You’re as free as I am.”

“…But I-“ Credence stared pointedly at the ground and didn’t finish his sentence. His hands white on the handle of the bucket. Newt watched him, waiting, but no more words came.

“…We haven’t discussed what happened in New York.” Newt said, “Those people…”

Credence remained completely still as Newt spoke, entire body closed off and poised as if preparing for a blow.

“…Credence I don’t want you think I support you hurting those people. I don’t.” Newt said firmly, “But I believe that you were not yourself-that you acted on an impulse so strong it was almost impossible to resist-“

“But I didn’t resist it.” Credence said, his eyes shining and distant. Newt shifted uncomfortably a few feet in front of him as Credence looked him in the eye while something dark and dangerous reared in the depths of his gaze. “I killed them.”

Newt held Credence’s eye until the boy looked away, down at his hands where they trembled on the bucket. 

“…Would you do it again?” Newt asked and Credence sucked in a short breath. “…Credence?”

“I’m a murderer.” Credence spat, “I’m a monster.”

“…You’re a person.” Newt said which made Credence shake his head more firmly, grimacing, “People make mistakes.”

“I lost control.” Credence said, “I might again.”

“You won’t.” Newt said certainly and Credence sucked in another short inhale and held it. The way he did when he was very upset, Newt was coming to learn.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Credence muttered, shoulders shaking like the first time Newt had found him in the case. Taking more short breaths and barely releasing the first, “What do you want?”

“I want to help.” Newt said.

Credence gasped again and shook his head. The bucket trembled in his hands then began to crumple, quick punches of steel beating inwards like paper being crushed under a giant’s hand. Newt thought he saw a spark of red in the boy’s dark eyes.

“Credence-“ Newt said in a calm voice, holding his hands out in front of him, “It’s alright, you don’t have to leave the case if you don’t want to. I won’t make you.”

“Stop it.” Credence stuttered, tears spilling from red eyes and over his cheeks. “Stop talking to me like that.”

Newt stopped speaking, just remained where he stood, palms outwards, a few feet in front of Credence as the boy began to shake apart. The bucket in his hands twisted and contorted until it was just a handle attached to a flat plate of brass which curled up until it brushed Credence’s knuckles. The air around Credence began to grow cold and crackle with dark magic.

Then, suddenly, Dougal appeared at Credence’s side. 

Newt’s eyes went wide with fear and he took a terrified step forward as Dougal touched Credence’s’ hand where it was white knuckled on the bucket. Credence looked down, startled, as Dougal’s blue eyes stared up at him.

Dougal delicately peeled one of Credence’s hands from where it was curled around the bucket handle then pressed something into his palm. 

Newt watched, wide eyed, mouth a thin, scared, line and wand gripped tightly in his hand behind him as Credence stared at the contents of his palm and then back down at Dougal who was watching him closely.

Then, like a storm passing, Credence’s shoulders began to sag. 

Dougal touched Credence’s other hand and Credence dropped the crushed bucket and with a last wretched sob then fell to his knees on the ground. 

Newt let out a relieved breath and did the same. Kneeling opposite Credence while Dougal just leant inwards towards Credence and patted his arm once before disappearing again.

Newt didn’t speak until Credence finally composed himself, catching his breath and digging his fingers deeply into his sides. After a few minutes Credence wiped his wet face and whispered, “I’m sorry,” sorely in the silence between them.

It wasn’t until much later that Newt saw that the item Dougal had so tenderly placed into Credence’s palm was a shiny, familiar, orange juice lid.


	5. Somewhere Upon the Sea

The weather had turned bad and their journey at sea was prolonged. On the fifth day when the skies finally cleared and wizard and muggle alike thought it finally safe enough to venture out onto the decks Newt Scamander and his strange new companion joined them. 

The seas were still quite rough and choppy though the sun was attempting to shine through the salty wind where Newt and Credence stood at the railing, looking out over the waves.

Credence looked very different in his dark hat, reminiscent of those worn by the Aurors of Macusa (and borrowed from a muggle who thought that belittling the wait staff was polite behaviour). Credence had it pulled over his face, afraid of being recognised on deck by someone from the magical community (Newt thought it highly unlikely, but then he’d always thought worrying was a waste of time). It clashed comically with his rug-jacket which Newt had attempted to tame into something a little more resembling an actual trench coat. 

It wasn’t terrible. If Credence were to lie down on the floor now at least Newt was pretty sure no one would mistake him for part of the décor. 

“You know there are very few wizards who have studied deep-sea aquatic magical creatures,” Newt stated suddenly and with some enthusiasm, “Rivers, ponds, swamps, certainly, but the deep ocean? Very few. Very few…” 

Credence stared out over the waves, a little pale-though that might be because he’d been kept in a case for almost a week. He nodded at Newt, but didn’t speak for a while.

“I’ve never been on a boat before.” Credence finally said.

Newt nodded. 

“I’d never travelled to America before this trip.” He said. 

Credence nodded in acknowledgement and then turned into Newt a little closer, covering his face. Newt frowned, leaning in to listen to what Credence had to say. 

“Those women are watching us.” He said suspiciously. Newt leant back from where they stood at the rails, spotting two young women in sky blue hats and matching coats watching them intently.

They smiled at Newt and then spoke in hushed tones between themselves, before giggling.

Newt turned back to the sea, going a little red, the sight a little too familiar to his high school days. 

“Are they witches?” Credence whispered, seeming even more pale than before.

“No, I don’t think so.” Newt said, though he had no way of knowing on sight alone. He hadn’t been able to pick Tina out until she’d apparated him. 

He had never been very good with girls, or boys, or people.

“Then why are they watching us?” Credence asked. Newt shrugged then glanced back at them where one was staring right at him.

She smiled again and Newt blinked then smiled weakly back at her. She and her friend giggled again and the boat hit another perilous set of waves, rocking them all back and forth.

Credence gripped the railing and Newt just about fell over, which made the girls smile and giggle even more. 

“They must be witches-“ Credence spat, “Why else would they be watching us?”

“No I think they just think we’re…” Newt shrugged one shoulder. Credence stared at him.

“…What?” He asked.

Newt stared at Credence then made the same motion again.

“…What does that mean?” Credence asked.

“…Weird?” Newt offered.

“…Oh.” Credence replied.

Newt smiled apologetically and Credence stared out across the sea as the girls started to get up. Newt busied himself with pretending to check the time on his pocket watch as they approached.

“Oh look it’s almost lunch time, shall we head below?”

Credence shook his head stiffly and Newt sucked in an awkward breath as he saw the girls beginning to pointedly look in their direction.

“Credence, I must admit I am very hungry. We could eat in the case-if that makes you more comfortable.”

They hit another patch of choppy waves and Credence’s grip on the rail tightened again, he shook his head.

The girls were definitely coming their way now-Newt could see them in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t look up at them or they might try and talk to him-or worse-to Credence. They were not exactly the most charming pair. Newt had barely managed to speak with Jacob, let alone Tina and Queenie. He did not want to get wrangled into an awkward conversation he wasn’t prepared for. 

“Credence, I really think-“ The girls were closing in, they were smiling devilishly, Newt could almost taste their bitter disappointment when he was forced to maintain small talk with them-

Just as they were about to introduce themselves however Credence bowed himself forward over the railing and threw up his breakfast.

Newt had never been happier to see someone sick in his life. The women quickly passed them, only laughing once they were a polite distance away while Newt patted Credence’s back and then noticed, with some bemusement that Credence had managed to retch up onto the level below where the man that Newt had ‘borrowed’ his hat from was standing with his wife.

The sick had missed the man, but he turned skyward then went a ruddy red hue as he pointed at Credence.

“Oi!” The man shouted, “That’s my hat!”

“Absolutely not!” Newt yelled back, then pulled Credence back from the railing and hurried him inside before the man could argue his point any further.


	6. Beards, Broomsticks and Other Creatures

“We’ll be at port in a few hours.” Newt said into the darkness.

He and Credence had retired for the night after chasing the niffler through 3 private rooms and the dining car. Newt was certain the niffler had managed to hide some silverware from him, but couldn’t for the life of him find it. 

Newt had meant to bring up their docking earlier but the excitement of the chase had distracted him.

The armchair-turned-cot made a few compromising squeaks as Credence turned to stare at Newt in the dark. Newt kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, feeling a little anxious.

“…Will you turn me in?” Credence whispered across the space between them.

Newt muddled his lip between his teeth and traced an old scar across his knuckles.

“…No.” Newt replied. “…Will you run?”

“…No.” Credence said.

“…I’ve written about you to an old teacher of mine.” Newt said in the dark, he could feel Credence’s stare on him, his apprehension, “Don’t worry Credence. I didn’t tell him about your powers.”

“…What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I met you in New York.” Newt said, “And that-that you wished to study abroad.”

“…Is that all you told him?” Credence murmured.

“No…I named you Clarence in my letters.” Newt admitted.

“…Clarence?”

Newt shrugged in the dark, then remembered that Credence probably couldn’t see him, “I thought it suited.”

“…It’s no worse than Credence.” The boy muttered.

Newt chuckled.

“Good night then, Clarence.” Newt said, his first attempt at a joke since Credence’s arrival.

Newt couldn’t quite see Credence in the dark, but he felt his smile in the tone of his voice, “…Good night.”

\---

“…Hair growing potion you say?”

“Yes.” Newt said. He was standing ram-rod straight behind the counter of Peterson’s Potions and Tonics. All along the walls a sea of bottles and artefacts glistened and glowed and Peterson himself stared at Newt from behind small, rounded, spectacles.

“…Not a beard-growing potion?” The brewer said gruffly.

Newt inclined his head frowning, like he’d misheard before he went a little red and shook his head, staring down at his shoes. 

“Uh, no, thank you. Hair-growing is fine thank you.”

“…This for you?” Peterson went on as he descended from his stool behind the counter with a groan, scratching his ratty hair and casting a suspicious eye on Newt who had a full head of messy, longer than fashionable, hair.

“Uh-no-it’s-for my aunt.” Newt said.

“…Your aunt?” Peterson replied, unconvinced.

“…Yes. She’s receding.” Newt said with a little more conviction. Then looked over his shoulder at where he’d left Credence at the front of the store, still wearing his ‘borrowed’ hat and looking left and right up Diagon Alley, a little overwhelmed by it all but brighter than Newt had seen him yet.

“Hm…Sad for her.” Peterson said, climbing a step ladder and retrieving a pink potion from a high shelf.

“…What? Oh! Yes!” Newt nodded then continued staring down at where he was clutching his money in his hands.

Peterson, still entirely suspicious, handed Newt the potion and then took his money, taking his time keying it into his register to watch Newt closely. 

“…It ain’t gonna work for a beard.” Peterson said finally.

Newt nodded, flushed and thanked the man before leaving the store.

Credence turned, wide eyed at Newt as he reappeared and then leant into Newt’s side, whispering.

“I just saw a creature with pointed ears walking a cat.”

“Yes that’s not entirely unexpected.” Newt replied and then hurried Credence along beside him down the bustling alley. 

“There was a man-riding a broom stick in the air-“ Credence went on.

“Terribly bad manners, riding down the alley like that.” Newt replied.

“A man asked me for a nut.” Credence finished. “…I asked what kind of nut he wanted, he was angry with me.”

“That…Is something I’ll explain better later.” Newt said. 

“This place is unbelievable.” Credence whispered, pressing his shoulder to Newt’s as they walked past a group of witches laughing with owls seated hooting on their elbows. “I can’t believe it. I don’t know where to look-“

“It’s alright to be overwhelmed.” Newt replied, “We’ll go back to the flat now, if you’ve had enough.”

“No!” Credence insisted, straightening a little and looking Newt in the eye with certainty before going a little red at Newt’s raised eyebrows. “No-I’m alright. I’m alright.”

“…Alright.” Newt replied. “Then there’s one last place I want to go.”

Newt had to take Credence’s arm as they walked to Olivander’s, the boy was so distracted by everything he saw that Newt had to steer him twice out of the path of approaching folk and apologise profusely in Goblin to a bank teller who Credence almost tripped over.

By the time they’d gotten to the wand shop Credence was wide eyed and pink cheeked, eyes going this way and that, standing a little straighter than Newt had ever seen. It was nice to see the boy coming out of his shell.

The quiet within the store was old and heavy. Like the ambience in old libraries or museums. All around the walls were rows upon rows of wands in boxes and Newt strode up to the counter while Credence just looked around, taking in the residue magic and atmosphere of the room.

Before Newt could hit the bell Olivander himself appeared. He was a young man with a disposition of someone wise beyond their years. Indeed-it had been Olivander who sold Newt his wand back when he had been very young. The man smiled at Newt and Newt returned it before dropping his gaze, intimidated by the intelligence behind those eyes. 

“Mr Scamander.” Olivander said confidently.

“Hello Mr Olivander.” Newt said shyly. 

“And who is your friend?” Olivander asked, casting curious eyes on Credence who quickly removed his hat and crushed it in his hands.

“Clarence Fulskin.” Newt said automatically. “A friend of mine-from New York.” 

“Ah…” Olivander said slowly, casting his gaze up and down Credence who nodded at Olivander but didn’t speak. Olivander turned his eye back on Newt then, settling his hands on the counter top and spying Newt’s wand where it stuck out from his coat pocket. “…Are you in need of repairs?” 

“No-Actually-I was hoping you might help my friend here in choosing a wand-see he forgot his back in New York-we left in a hurry…” Newt chattered, hoping Olivander wouldn’t ask for details. 

Olivander glanced over at Credence who in turn was staring at Newt, then nervously snapped his gaze to Olivander, a little wide eyed.

“Is that so?” Olivander asked, “Surely it could be delivered…?”

“Uh-I’m afraid not, see it was damaged beyond repair, Clarence elected to leave it behind-isn’t that right, Clarence?” Newt turned to Credence with wide eyes.

Credence stared back and then nodded twice. 

“Yes. I left it.” Credence supported.

The three men all stared at one another in the thick silence that followed.

Newt smiled as convincingly as he could and then turned to Olivander, nodding along with Credence.

Olivander raised a brow but made no further comment, turning from Credence who then quickly crossed to Newt’s side with an expression that said he clearly thought Newt was absolutely mad. Newt smiled timidly at him and shrugged.

“I can’t pay for this-“ Credence whispered as Olivander traced a finger along the rows of shelves in front of them. Newt just smiled and patted Credence twice on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it.” Newt said kindly and Credence glanced at where he’d been touched before flushing. Eyes locked on the store counter.

Olivander turned then and placed a box in front of them. Opening it he drew a long, spiralled wand and held the handle out to Credence.

“This is a wand I recently received from a wand maker from the continent.” Olivander said, “It was one of only four created. It was carved from a red berry Juniper tree in Arizona and at its centre is the feather of a griffin native to that same state…”

Newt swallowed at that particular bit of insight while Credence reached out and carefully took the wand in his hand.

The moment Credence’s fingers touched the handle Newt felt a breeze, warm and smelling strangely of summer rain on hot stone whip around the small shop, the wands on the shelves rattled and Credence sucked in a short breath as red veins of light seemed to shoot from his hand up through the grains of the wood of the wand, trembling in his grip.

Just when Newt was sure the wand was about to burst into flame it calmed. The wood had changed colour since Credence had handled it-going from a polished grey to a dusky charcoal.

Credence seemed transfixed by the effect and only looked up when Olivander let out a low ‘hmm’, Newt gently squeezed Credence’s shoulder, looking at him quizzically.

“…Good?” Newt asked.

“…Yes.” Credence replied.

“…Fascinating.” Olivander said.


	7. More Than a Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> I'm trying to keep my updating schedule to every two days! I am a little busy at the moment-but will do my best!
> 
> Happy New Year!

“Why did you buy this for me?”

“You can’t learn magic without a wand.” Newt said without turning around.

“…No I was talking about this.”

Newt turned and looked up when Credence held the pink potion titled ‘Peterson’s luscious lock grower for thin haired wizards and witches’.

“…Ah!” Newt said, straightening up and wiping some dirt from his hands where he’d been planting an orange tree in the now-fertile ground of the spare habitat where the obscurus had once been in the case. “Well, because, I thought if you had longer hair-then you’d be harder to recognise.”

Credence stared at the bottle, then self-consciously flattened his hair against his head.

“…It was just a thought.” Newt said warily, “You don’t have to drink it.”

“...Does it work?”

“I should hope so.” Newt replied, “I haven’t drunk one since I was a child. My brother thought it would be funny to swap my coughing potion with one once…” Credence raised an eyebrow at Newt who went pink. “…It will work.”

Credence nodded and Newt turned back to his planting, he had a book open on the ground, an old herbology textbook from his time at school. Newt was fairly well versed in herbology, having to use it for a lot of his habitats and he carefully began casting spells to encourage the orange tree to grow without stressing the plant into flowering too early.

Once he was done Newt smiled, the sapling had grown over two metres already. By tomorrow it might even begin to fruit. 

Newt turned back to see Credence tipping the entire potion into his mouth.

“Oh-wait!” Newt said but Credence had finished the bottle, wiping the last of it from his lips before he noticed Newt’s wide eyed expression.

“…What?” Credence said warily.

Newt watched Credence then glanced up at his fringe, then back into his eyes. “…Oh, nothing.”

Credence stared at Newt who straightened, wiped his hands again on his pants and neglected to point out the directions on the back of the bottle which read ‘Caution, for best results drink incrementally.’

When Credence woke the next morning he cried out and fell out of his bed tangled in over 5 feet of dark, thick, hair.

\---

“…I can take you to a barber,”

“No.”

“…Really Credence, I can take you-“

“Please.” Credence said earnestly. He was sat on a chair in Newt’s small apartment in London. Looking into a mirror in the tiny bathroom. Outside a train rattled by, making the walls and windows shake and tremble. 

Newt had returned home after delivering his manuscript to the publishers to find Credence attempting to cut his own, long, hair in the bathroom. He’d managed to hack away at over four feet, which lay about him like a nest, but had asked Newt, balefully, if he would style the remaining foot.

Newt was not sold on the idea.

“…I’m not good at this.” Newt assured Credence then took the scissors (which he used usually to trim the trowbuckle’s hedges). “…How much off?”

“…I-I don’t know.” Credence said.

“…Do you want it short? Long?” Newt wasn’t sure. He’d always sort of cut his own hair around his ears and then let it grow out. Style was not exactly his strongest point.

“…Longer, I think.” Credence said. “So people don’t recognise me…But-straighter. Please.”

Newt nodded, swallowing gingerly and taking Credence’s hair in his hands. He pulled it back into a pony tail and apologised when Credence’s lip quirked at his hair being pulled. Once back in a tail Newt chopped a few centimetres off, then brushed it out with his fingers. It still hung longer than was technically in fashion but Newt didn’t want to trim it too short. 

“Here?” Newt asked, brushing it over Credence’s shoulders to show him the length. 

Credence stared at himself in the reflection. There was no trace of his old fringe in the looking glass as it now parted down the centre. 

He looked like someone completely different to the obscurial Newt had known in New York.

“A little shorter, please.” Credence said shyly, not meeting Newt’s eye. 

Newt did as he was told and cut another line, as straight as he could, bringing Credence’s hair to above his shoulders, just long enough that it could still be pulled back. It was a little feminine, Newt thought, though Credence himself was a little feminine in his own way-so it might work. He brushed it again over the boy’s shoulders and waited. Credence glanced up and stared at his reflection before nodding.

“Thank you.” He said and Newt smiled then brushed the excess hair from Credence’s shoulders.

“Do you have anything to tie it back with?” Newt asked, “It might get in your eyes.”

“I’ll find something.” Credence replied, his reflection pink in the mirror.

Newt didn’t notice the way Credence glanced up at him now and then, just continued brushing the hair from Credence’s shoulders and then using his wand to get rid of the rest of it and tidy the bathroom in the silence that followed.


	8. Flowers in Moments

“The laws are different in England,” Newt said as he stood beside Credence under the orange tree which had grown massive since it’s planting and was beginning to flower, “We are not quite as liberal with the death penalty-nor stringent with intermagical marriages-but there are certain magical practices that are internationally recognised as dangerous-and unforgivable.”

“What kind of magic?” Credence asked. Newt muddled his lip between his teeth and frowned, thinking of a polite way to put it.

“There are dark magicians, one of the worst of which you have met before, who would use magic to torture or even kill others…”Newt said while Credence looked away, gripping his wand tightly and staring at the ground, “But they are rare and I hope that you never cross the path of such a person again.”

“…I hate him.” Credence confessed, staring at the ground under his feet. “I wanted-to destroy him.” Newt swallowed awkwardly and nodded.

“Yes. Grindelwald is… Especially deplorable amongst wizards.” Newt said. “I am sorry that he was your introduction to magic-he is not the mentor I would have chosen for you.”

“…I wish it had been you.” Credence murmured, glancing up at Newt for a second before returning his gaze to the ground.

“…I would have liked that too.” Newt said.

Credence stared at Newt then, until Newt became uncomfortable and turned their attention back to the small sprouts at their feet.

“I want to grow a field of flowers here,” Newt said, “This kind of magic is called Herbology, it is one of the subjects you are taught at Hogwarts, the magical school I was telling you about.” 

Credence nodded and listened intently.

“I think it would be good for you to learn this kind of magic first. It’s all about growth and patience and tenderness. It requires time and understanding, even in the magical world nature cannot be bent against its will without severe consequence. You can’t force a plant to flower before it is ready-you can only support its natural progression,” Newt said, getting a little carried away in his explanation. He smiled apologetically at Credence who seemed transfixed by one of Newt’s longest monologues yet, before continuing, “I have a textbook which you can read, too. So you might have a little headway on the other students in this field if you are accepted into Hogwarts.”

“…Do you think I could be?” Credence asked, Newt raised an eyebrow at him. “Accepted, I mean?”

“…Possibly.” Newt said. “I believe you could do it.”

Credence stared at Newt, his long hair tied back behind his head, when he smiled a brief, small, smile.

Newt cleared his throat and turned the boy’s attention back to the saplings at his feet. “Right, let’s begin.”

By the end of their first lesson Credence was able to convince poppies to spring from the earth like wild flowers, red petals swaying happily, dancing beneath the natural waving of his wand. Newt was tremendously impressed by Credence’s efficiency with a wand and told him so.

Credence seemed shocked by his natural fluency in the craft. He went as red as the flowers he created under the praise. 

Newt was careful not to introduce Credence to any other kind of magic until he had secured a meeting with Dumbledore. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Credence-just that he worried about him. Worried that too much magic without correct supervision would overload him or frustrate him-reigniting the obscurus within which Newt hadn’t seen a trace of for almost 3 weeks.

Credence was progressing forward in leaps and bounds since leaving New York but Newt knew that recovery was not linear and feared that another outburst might present itself if he wasn’t cautious.

\---

By the end of the first month Newt received word from his old professor that they would be able to meet in Hogsmeade, just outside of the grounds to discuss Newt’s new friend’s enrolment. Newt informed Credence who was busy feeding the Diricawls (who now climbed all over him like kittens) and Credence smiled, ecstatic and excited by the prospect.

While they travelled Newt read the daily prophet as much as he was able. Grindelwald was still held captive in America though his trial continued to be delayed due to political unrest between England and the US. Grindelwald was wanted in both countries and both magical governments wished to trial him under different laws. 

In America Grindelwald faced the death penalty, in England he was due to serve life imprisonment in Azkaban.

Newt sighed tiredly as he read the stories further. At least he was still imprisoned.

Sitting across from Newt on the train Credence watched Newt where he dragged his hand through his hair again, sighing loudly and scrunching up his nose in disdain.

“…Is everything alright?” Credence asked.

“…Yes.” Newt said, looking up and rolling up the daily prophet. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

Credence nodded and eyed the paper beneath Newt’s arm. “…May I read that?”

Newt stared at Credence and then against his better judgement handed the paper to him.

Credence unrolled the prophet and scanned the headlines. He was wearing his hat from the ocean liner atop his long hair. Newt had given Credence one of his old coats. A ragged old grey coat which he’d worn during his time in the army, it’s sleeves were burnt in some places though Credence rolled it up over his wrists to hide them.

It was a vast improvement on the rug coat, though Credence refused to let Newt transfigure it back to its original form. It still hung over Credence’s lumpy armchair cot, guarded diligently at all times.

Credence frowned at the headline while Newt watched him read, then stared at the picture of Grindelwald sneering from the second page.

“…Is that him?” Credence asked, voice low.

“…Yes.” Newt said.

“He looks… Different.” Credence said.

“He was concealing his true identity from you.” Newt said. Credence swallowed roughly, his eyes a little shiny, “You never knew a Mr Graves. It was a convenient ruse. The real Graves still hasn’t been placed.”

“…He tricked me.” Credence whispered painfully.

“He tricked a lot of people. People who were trained to know better.” Newt said insistently.

Credence frowned and then stared up at Newt, eyeing him seriously. Newt just stared honestly back until Credence finally nodded stiffly and turned the page.


	9. The Professor

They met with Dumbledore in a back room of Madame Rosita’s brewery, bar and inn. Newt had not been to the bar since his trips into Hogsmeade during his enrolment in school and never in one of the back rooms. The sound of jazz filtered in through the door way where Newt and Credence sat at a small table waiting for the Professor to appear. Credence was wringing his hands nervously while Newt stared out the window of the tiny room into the snow outside.

“…I’m nervous.” Credence suddenly confided, making Newt turn. “…What if he says no?”

“…Then we’ll continue our lessons.” Newt said, making Credence swallow and adjust the tie around his neck for the tenth time. 

“…What if he says yes?” Credence whispered.

Newt stared across at Credence who was digging his finger nails into the tops of his palms and holding his breath, as he did when he was very upset. Newt looked up at the boy’s face but his eyes were locked on the wooden table beneath them.

Newt patted the boy’s palms twice, making him look up, expression uncertain and scared.

“Don’t worry, Credence.” Newt said, squeezing his hands. “It’ll be alright.”

Credence licked his lips and quickly pulled his hands away when there was a knock at the door. 

Newt and Credence both stood as Professor Dumbledore entered the room. He was wearing long robes and he had grown a beard since Newt had seen him last. He was a young man, though a little older than Newt with eyes that still glistened with youth when he smiled at Newt and Credence. Though he looked weary.

“Mr Scamander,” Dumbledore said, taking Newt’s extended hand and shaking it.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Newt said, smiling and then stepped aside so that Credence could step forward, extending his hand, tight lipped and pale. “Allow me to introduce my friend, Clarence Fulskin.”

“A pleasure,” Dumbledore said and took Credence’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Mr Scamander has told me that you are interested in attending Hogwarts?”

“Yes, sir.” Credence said as they all sat down at the table between them.

“Have you studied magic before?” Dumbledore asked. Credence glanced at Newt, who swallowed and nodded minutely. 

“Yes, sir.” Credence said automatically at Newt’s prompting.

“At which institution?” Dumbledore asked. “Ilvermorny?”

Credence looked like a deer in head lights at the name and shook his head.

“Clarence has been doing some lessons with me.” Newt interjected, making Dumbledore turn his intelligent eyes on him instead. “When we met in New York Clarence was only just beginning to recognise his magical powers.”

“…Is that so?” Dumbledore asked. “…You say you met on your last trip?”

“Yes.” Newt admitted.

“The one where you aided in the capture of an international terrorist and the obliviation of an entire Muggle city?”

“…Yes.” Newt said.

Dumbledore stared at Newt curiously and Newt held his gaze for as long as he could before he looked away continuing.

“It was a very fruitful trip, sir.” Newt said.

“I should say.” Dumbledore said, smiling and breaking the tension between them. Dumbledore turned back to Credence who sat up a little straighter, a little sweat gathering at his brow.

“So former to your introduction to Mr Scamander you had no magical training?” The older man asked.

“…No, sir.” Credence murmured, shoulders hunching in on himself at the admittance.

“Do you have a family history of magic?” Dumbledore asked.

“…I don’t know, sir.” Credence said sorely, crushing his hands together in his lap.

“Clarence is an orphan.” Newt said into the tense silence that followed.

“…Well that is nothing to be ashamed of.” Dumbledore said, making Credence look up. “After the war there are many people without families. Do you have somewhere safe to live?”

“…I am boarding with Ne-with Mr Scamander.” Credence said.

“That is good,” Dumbledore said with another smile. “Has Mr Scamander made you aware of the typical age of acceptance at Hogwarts?” 

“Yes, sir.” Credence said.

“Then you know that you are older than most of the students who are accepted in their first year?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“It is unusual for students to be accepted after a certain age,” Dumbledore went on, “Not impossible, I assure you, but only on special cases. You may be forced to begin study at a higher level than most first years to keep you with other students your age. This could require a lot of tutoring prior to enrolment-some of which Mr Scamander may be unable to provide you with due to his untimely expulsion.”

Newt swallowed and looked down at his hands, his ears going red when Credence turned to him, shocked. Newt hadn’t told Credence about his experience at Hogwarts in the last few years. Dumbledore noticed the strange exchange between them.

“…I see I’ve revealed something previously left unsaid.” Dumbledore said apologetically.

“It’s alright.” Newt said, not meeting either of their eyes, “It’s true.”

“Unfortunately so.” Dumbledore said empathetically. “That being the case you may have to sacrifice your holidays to catch-up on study the other students will have already learnt in their previous years. This could be very intensive for someone who has not studied magic before.”

“I can handle it.” Credence said certainly, shocking both of the other men in the room. Newt especially stared at Credence, surprised by the sudden conviction in his eyes. “I want to learn.” 

“…I admire your conviction, Mr Fulskin.” Dumbledore said, smiling appreciatively at Credence who nodded. “I’ve brought the appropriate paper work for you to lodge an application to the Headmaster of the school. I will be sure to put in a good word for you, Clarence.”

Credence smiled shyly at Dumbledore and Newt grinned privately with excitement for him.

“Now, if you two wouldn’t mind, I would like to hear first-hand exactly what happened in New York city.” Dumbledore asked.

Newt’s eyes went a little wide and he glanced at Credence who stared back at him, mortified.

“It’s a long story.” Newt began.

“Good,” Dumbledore said, flicking his wand and summoning a bottle of chocolate flavoured whiskey from the shelf opposite them along with three glasses and wandlessly commanding it to pour for them as he scooted his chair closer to Newt, eyes glistening. “I love long stories!”

\---

Credence was pink cheeked and slumped in his chair by the time Newt had concluded his story. Dumbledore insisted on getting the entire story and had even organised a late supper for them as it began to get dark outside. 

Newt did his best to tell the tale as best he could without giving away too many details about the obscurus or Credence-and tried instead to focus on the lighter side and Grindelwald’s capture instead. 

Dumbledore was thrilled to hear about Newt’s suitcase which he eyed with wrapt wonder where it sat at Newt’s side and about the welfare of his creatures. Newt offered to show Dumbledore the inside of his case but Dumbledore waved him away, smiling.

“No thank you, Mr Scamander. I believe it is almost time for me to leave you two gentleman to your travel home-and I have essays to mark before bed. However much I would love to get lost inside of your tremendous, moving, sanctuary. Another time though, absolutely, I couldn’t pass up such an amazing opportunity twice.”

Newt beamed at the man and nodded. Credence smiled too, swaying a little forward and then straightening as Dumbledore turned to him and stood. Newt and Credence stood as well, each shaking his hand again.

“It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Fulskin,” Dumbledore said. Credence nodded a little over-enthusiastically. Newt was certain that Credence had not been acquainted with Nickels Chocolate flavoured whiskey before and had to hide a small smirk as Credence held onto the Professors hand for a little longer than strictly necessary in his earnestness to shake his hand properly (and energetically).

“Thank you, sir-for considering me-I won’t let you down.” Credence assured the professor seriously. Dumbledore smiled and patted Credence on the back.

“I look forward to reading your application, Clarence, I wish you the best of luck,” Credence smiled and nodded, before stepping out of the way as Newt walked Dumbledore to the door. “Mr Scamander,” Dumbledore murmured, once they were at the door, low enough that only they could heart it. “Would you mind if we spoke privately in the hall?”

“…Not at all, Professor.” Newt said nervously. Dumbledore smiled and then turned to where Credence was still standing at the table, watching them.

“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing Mr Scamander for a few minutes, do you Mr Fulskin?” Dumbledore asked, a hand on Newt’s shoulder.

Credence shook his head.

“Very well, good night!” Dumbledore said before guiding Newt out into the hallway with him.

The sound of laughter, chatter and the ebb and flow of jazz poured in from the front where Newt and Dumbledore walked in the shadow of the hallway towards the front door. It was warm inside, the cold, paranoia of the war long forgotten by the people of Hogsmeade, some even celebrating over Grindelwald’s timely capture.

Dumbledore stopped them just before they entered the main room, standing opposite Newt in the small space. Clever eyes searching his for something. 

“What is it, Professor?” Newt asked.

“I have had the fortune of knowing many powerful and brilliant wizards in my time.” Dumbledore said, “Yourself included, Mr Scamander.”

Newt coloured under the compliment from his favourite teacher but said nothing.

“It isn’t always possible to recognise on sight alone but occasionally I have picked correctly.” Dumbledore placed his hand back on Newt’s shoulder, holding him steady as he continued, very seriously. “I feel that some details of your trip were kept purposefully vague during your re-telling, were they not?” 

Newt swallowed, attempting to shrink back and fade into the wall paper behind him. He said nothing.

“I only say so since I am sure that your new friend played some role in your adventure, despite never being mentioned, not once.” Dumbledore said. “It is not for me to know all your secrets, Mr Scamander, but I must offer you this warning: Uncontrolled power can corrupt even the strongest of constitutions and is often a magnet to dangerous forces…”

“…Clarence is in control of his magic.” Newt assured Dumbledore. “I’m helping him.”

“A kind gesture,” Dumbledore said, “But be careful, Mr Scamander, there are dark and villainous people in the world who are not as compassionate as yourself who would use inexperience to their advantage-if it fell in their path.”

“…I’ll keep him with me.” Newt said. “Until he’s accepted-he’s my responsibility.”

“…I am glad to hear it.” Dumbledore said, squeezing Newt’s shoulder and smiling at him brightly, “I’d like a copy of your book-when it is published, by the way. A signed copy, if you have time.”

Newt smiled and nodded, walking his ex-teacher to the door and finally wishing him goodnight a few minutes later.

When Newt returned to the room where he had left Credence the boy was asleep with his face pressed against the top of the table next to his empty glass, snoring. Newt smiled privately to himself then coaxed Credence into the case (only dropping him once down the stairs on the way in and upsetting a tray of marinating floxom eggs).


	10. Not New to Sacrifice

“You’ll have to come up with a new signature.” Newt said from where he was scrubbing down the back of one of the baby Graphorns that had managed to roll itself completely in dung. The babies tentacular mouth was busy playing through the back of Newt’s hair as he worked. In the wild the creature would’ve simply worked the dung off or rolled in some stream-but Newt hadn’t thought to bewitch a river into his case in case some of the smaller creatures drowned in it and so thought it would’ve been easier to just do it manually. The creatures’ parents were watching him from a little while away while Credence sat on a stone, reading over his application diligently.

“I was just going to write my name.” Credence said. 

“That’ll do.” Newt admonished as the graphorn baby attempted to stick a tentacle up his nose, making him snort. He gently brushed the tentacle aside and rolled his sleeves up further, dipping his sponge back into his bucket and returning to his scrubbing. 

“…Why were you expelled?” Credence asked from above. 

Newt paused in his work, making the baby rear back and look at him balefully. Enjoying the scrubbing on its back, it gurgled at Newt who sighed and then continued.

“I made a mistake…” Newt said. “…People were hurt.”

“…Did anyone die?” Credence asked.

“No.” Newt said, shaking his head certainly and scrubbing at the baby graphorns belly carefully while Credence watched him closely. “No, nothing that severe…When I was in school I didn’t have many friends.” Newt admitted, he smiled awkwardly at Credence then continued. “I did however, have one and she was as interested in magical beasts as I was…Or at least I thought so.” Newt sucked in a deep breath and sighed, continuing his work on the graphorn, “One day she did something-something with a creature-that ended in some of the other students getting hurt. Word got around that a creature had been released to a bad end and I was the natural suspect. My friend came to me first…She was from a strict family. If she were expelled-she’d be outcast, destitute…Turned out. So I…Well I…”

“You took the blame.” Credence breathed. Newt nodded, once.“…And they expelled you?” 

“Yes.” Newt said, sitting back on his haunches and staring at the ground sadly. 

Credence stared at Newt and then climbed down from his perch on the stone, Newt wiped his face on the back of his sleeve with a deep breath and then patted the graphorn baby.

“There, all clean, off you go now.” He murmured wetly, stroking the creature’s side and patting it as the baby stood and shook itself off. “Stay clear of that dung, won’t you?”

The baby graphorn surged forward and nudged Newt’s cheek, face tentacles snuffling his hair and neck affectionately before the baby trotted off over to its parents who received it with intelligent nods in Newt’s direction before disappearing into the distance of their enclosure.

Newt straightened while Credence stood just behind him, watching the large beasts disappear. Newt turned to him after collecting his bucket and found Credence looking at him with an odd expression, as if he had something he wished to say but couldn’t.

“…Is something wrong?” Newt asked.

Credence shook his head.

“It’s just-I was going to hug you.” Credence admitted, “But you are covered in-that.”

Newt looked down at himself, where he was brown from the hands up to the shoulder, then back up at Credence. 

“…Well, it’s the thought that counts.” Newt said. Making Credence smile.


	11. In the Kitchen

“Magic is wonderful.” Credence breathed as Newt bewitched the dishes to clean themselves and the broom to sweep the floor of their tiny shared apartment in London. There was a bewitched gramophone playing some new muggle jazz from America in the corner as Newt worked. 

Newt snorted and smiled from where he was reading a letter back from one of his editors at the kitchen table congratulating him on his manuscript and giving him some advice on revisions for a final draft.

“It is useful.” Newt admitted. “I’ll have to teach you some of these spells.”

“Please.” Credence said with utter sincerity. “It used to take me two hours to sweep Mother’s home. She would check every surface and if I missed something she’d-“

Credence stopped mid-conversation, suddenly going very pale and still where he’d been cutting oranges at the kitchen counter.

Newt looked up after a few seconds when the boy didn’t continue. Eyeing him and the stiff set of his shoulders. It had been almost 2 months since Credence’s appearance in Newt’s suitcase and he had never once mentioned his family or previous life in New York. Newt hadn’t pushed the subject, wishing for Credence to grow confident in broaching it himself when he was ready.

It appeared it had snuck up on the boy sooner than he was prepared for.

“…Credence?” Newt said as the gramophone spun away in the background, pouring jaunty music into the tense atmosphere between them.

Credence sucked in a short breath and held it. Newt stared at his back and then pushed himself out of his chair to go to the boy’s side where he was white-knuckling the knife in his hand.

“Credence, would you like to sit down?...” Newt asked, getting no response. After a few worrying seconds Newt reached for the knife, wanting to be sure Credence didn’t accidentally hurt himself, “…I can finish this.”

The second Newt’s hand touched Credence’s the boy jerked away, shoving at Newt and pressing himself bodily back against the pantry with enough force to knock a few jars from the shelf, shattering on the floor.

Newt stared, shocked and wide eyed at the response. He held his hands up, palms out to Credence to show he was unarmed then glanced down at where Credence had knicked his hand with the sharp knife when he shoved him back. 

Blood dripped from the centre of Newt’s hand to the floor and Credence’s eyes followed it.

Jazzy music hummed in the background as Credence’s face twisted in some internal agony, he sucked in a short, painful, breath and held it. Drew in another, choking on it. 

Newt blinked as Credence dropped the knife and fisted his hands at his sides, trying to push himself as deeply back into the wooden shelves behind him as he could. Eyes wide and wet where he was staring at Newt’s dripping hand and the glass scattered on the floor.

“I killed her.” Credence said and Newt swallowed as the air around them became colder and the gramophone’s music began to crackle and distort, like it was being played from far away and not the other side of the room. “She’s dead.”

“That’s in the past now, Credence.” Newt whispered, trying his best to seem unaffected as the glass at their feet began to crack into tinier pieces. “It was a mistake.”

“I can see her.” Credence gasped, drawing short, panicked breaths, “I see her every night.”

“…You have bad dreams?” Newt asked. Credence nodded, desperately, tears pouring down his cheeks and hands trembling. Beneath their feet the floorboards began to rattle and the music began to whine like unearthly groaning.

“Every night.” Credence whispered, face contorted with suffering. “How can you stand to be near me? When you know what I am? What I’m capable of?”

“We are all capable of bad things, Credence…” Newt said clearly, ignoring the way the blood dripping from his hand was being caught in mid-air, as if gravity were disappearing around them, “We all make mistakes-Here, just sit down with me, let me help you-“

“I’ll hurt you again.” Credence sobbed. “You’ll fear me, like Modesty, like Chastity, like a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Credence.” Newt said with conviction, “You’re just a boy.”

“…Why don’t you hate me?” Credence gasped, “Why are you helping me?”

“…Because I want to.” Newt said, staring sincerely at Credence’s desperate, weeping, face. “Because this time I can...”

Credence stared, breath coming in short, panicked, hitches before the gramophone’s groaning and whining began to return to some semblance of music and Newt’s blood finally fell to the floor. The humming and shaking in the room stopped as Credence dropped his gaze from Newt. Staring at the floor and trying, desperately, to regain his composure.

Newt swallowed, aware that it had taken a lot of Credence’s newly found control to reign in his episode. Before hesitantly stepping forward, shoes crunching on the broken glass jars beneath his feet, to pull the shaking boy in front of him into an embrace.

It took a few seconds but soon Credence had his arms wrapped so tightly around Newt it was almost bruising. His wet face pressed into Newt’s shoulder and sucking in deep, sore, breaths as he tried to calm himself down, pressed bodily against Newt.

Newt didn’t say anything, he wasn’t much of a hugger, but knew that Credence was starved for affection of any kind due to his childhood and that a hug was a sure way to calming him. He patted the boy a little awkwardly as the music played on behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon the sporadic updates my friends!  
> Work has been very taxing at the moment and I have plain out forgotten to update!  
> I think I'll update thrice to make up for it!  
> Thank you for your kind comments x


	12. Notes on Anti-Venoms and Antidotes of the South Pacific

Credence’s mouth was only just visible above the yellow and grey scarf he was wearing where he stood out the front of an abandoned pie shop in the middle of a dewy, grey, street in early morning. He was swaddled in Newt’s large grey jacket and his hat was pulled low over his face as he sat by the door, a cup in front of him with some coins inside.

There were few people walking the streets, as early as it was and Credence didn’t meet any of their eyes as they passed, pretending to have his arms tucked tightly against his sides for warmth while he was really hiding his wand, clutched tightly in one hand.

There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor and then a puff of pink smoke out of one of the pie shops broken, old windows, making Credence turn, wide eyed. 

There was the sound of a scuffle, another thump and then running footsteps.

Credence stood, knocking over his cup as he stepped back from the door of the old shop and drew his wand. Pointing it at the ajar doorway with a serious expression.

Seconds later Newt flew through it almost falling down the stairs in his haste. In one hand he had a cage full of fluffy, beady eyed, creatures. While his face and clothes were covered completely in pink, glittering, powder.

“Are you-?” Credence asked before Newt tackled him into the pavement, knocking him down just as a spell flew over Credence’s shoulder and they apparated from the spot reappearing a little way down the street. 

Newt shook some of the pink powder free of his hair as the creatures in the cage at his side twittered and bickered while Credence stumbled back, wide eyed. 

“What happened?” Credence asked while Newt just shook his head, looking a little pale.

“They were ready for me-I’ve been stung-“ Newt huffed, pulling up the edge of his shirt and waistcoat and revealing two puncture marks on his side which made Credence’s eyes go wide in fear. “An accident, treatable, need to get back to the case.” Newt said, grabbing Credence’s arm and apparating them again.

It took 10 more apparitions before they made it back to the flat in London. Newt fell against the door, breathing laboured and Credence had to unlock the door with Newt’s key and help him inside.

“I thought you said the smuggling ring was harmless?” Credence asked as he helped Newt to his case. Newt’s head began to loll back against Credence’s should as they walked, eyes slipping closed for a few seconds before he shook himself awake again. Pink powder tracing all along the carpet as they went.

“It is-was-there was only one man there… I just… Released the other creatures a little too early-“

“…What stung you?” Credence asked as he helped Newt down the stair into the cabin inside of his case. Newt stumbled down the stairs and Credence had to catch him like a dead weight, slamming his hip into the work table behind them as Newt struggled to regain his footing.

“Andoralisk,” Newt mumbled as Credence dropped Newt into his cot, peeling off his scarf and hat and helping Newt unbutton his waist coat. “Sort of like a muggle scorpion, except fluffy and-ah-“ Newt hissed as he peeled back his shirt from the wound just above his hip. Credence went pale as he noticed the way the wound had gone red and puffy in the minutes since he’d last seen it. “It’s venom is a paralytic, especially potent against magic, its why I couldn’t apparate us here in one turn…”

Newt’s eyes began to close as he explained, laying back more comfortably into Credence’s blankets. Credence stared, terrified, as Newt began to drift off. Credence tapped Newt’s face, rousing him again.

“Newt!” Credence said, causing Newt’s eyes to snap open and re-focus, inhaling bemusedly. “How do I help you?”

“You need-antidote-have everything-there.” Newt muttered, he pointed to his work table, hand only just able to stay aloft for a few seconds before it thudded back to his side heavily. Credence quickly crossed to the work table, looking around while Newt tried to push himself up into a better sitting position, eyes half lidded and red at the edges. Skin turning pale in front of Credence’s eyes.

“Take that plant there, the one labelled ‘Dordus leaf’, you want a root.” Newt instructed. Credence swiftly dug into the pot of the plant and pulled one out. He cut the leaves from the root as Newt continued, “Now that bottle, the-the blue one. On the shelf with the-the drawing of a cross. Take that and… Grind the two together… Take your time.” Newt murmured, his eyes closing again where he sat. 

Credence did as he was told, casting a worried, desperate look over his shoulder as Newt went quiet again. 

“What now?” Credence asked. He turned but Newt was out cold. Credence dropped what he was doing and flew to his knees beside Newt, slapping at his face and shaking Newt to try and wake him. “Newt, Newt! What do I do?” 

Newt’s head lolled against his shoulder and Credence felt hopeless tears burn at his eyes as he stood, looking this way and that, trying not to panic.

Suddenly, Credence stared as a book on the shelf was pulled from its place and then scuttled across the floor before floating in front of him. It was one of Newt’s old diaries titled ‘Notes on Anti-Venoms and Antidotes of the South Pacific.’

Credence took the book and then gasped when Dougal came into view, tugging at his sleeve and pointing at the work bench.

“Yes, yes, of course! Thank you!” Credence said, running to the work bench and flipping through the note book as quickly as he could. Eyes scanning Newt’s pedantic notes as fast as he could.

It took far more precious time than Credence had to find the small section on Andoralisks and a recipe for an antidote including the two ingredients he had already put together.

Credence’s eyes danced along the lines until he realised that even WITH the recipe he didn’t know what any of the ingredients were or how to recognise them. 

Credence was just about to cry when Dougal reappeared, holding a bag of something dried and light which he placed in front of Credence, then pointed at something on the list, crossing it out with his small fingers.

Credence stared, amazed, as Dougal looked up at him with blue, flashing, eyes and then disappeared again, reappearing a few seconds later with a jar of what looked like tiny pickled eggs.

Credence didn’t waste time questioning it, just threw the potion ingredients together as well as he could until he finally had a foul smelling white paste which vaguely resembled what Newt had written down. 

“Oh please, please work.” Credence begged and then crossed to Newt’s side. He hitched his shirt up further and watched in repulsion as the sting began to weep, swollen and almost purple where it had only been red and puffy before.

Credence took a spoon and ladled a generous amount of the disgusting paste onto the sting, smoothing it out and over it and then grabbing a clean cloth and holding it down over the top of the wound.

Newt stirred a little under the attention but only groaned a small amount attempting to flinch away from the contact before going still again.

Credence watched in horror as there seemed to be no effect one way or the other. Tears began to gather at the corners of his eyes as Newt remained deathly pale. Breathing slow and chest barely rising and falling at all as time ticked by.

“Wake up.” Credence whispered taking Newt’s hand that was closest to him and squeezing. Beside Credence Dougal climbed up the side of the cot and stared down at Newt where he lay, large blue eyes looking over him sympathetically. The demiguise touched Newt’s face and chirped.

Newt didn’t move for almost 10 minutes before he finally sighed in his sleep.

Credence, who’d rested his head against the side of the cot, resigned to the worse and wondering how on earth he was going to take care of all the creatures in the case alone, looked up at the sound. 

Dougal brushed some hair from Newt’s face as the young man began to stir, shuffling on his back and making uncomfortable, pained, sounds. Credence’s face lit up with hope as Newt finally opened his eyes again. Bleary and still red rimmed but open. 

“My God, you’re alive!” Credence whispered.

Newt turned to Credence, ashy and pale, he blinked-like he wasn’t sure where he was before he smiled.

“…Ah, you found it.” Newt mumbled, looking over at where his old journal was splayed open on the work bench. “That was lucky…”

Dougal looked over at Credence then disappeared from view as Credence helped Newt lie down more comfortably, chuckling thankfully. 

“What else do you need?” Credence breathed, “Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”

“…A bandage, please.” Newt said. “…And you’ll need to check on the Garblers-I think I left them upstairs…”

Credence smiled, nodding happily and running off to do as he was told. He bandaged Newt once he’d gotten back, keeping the clean cloth and ointment pressed tight to the wound. Newt didn’t complain, though he winced a few times, clinging tightly to the blankets beneath his hands.

Once they were done Newt was sweating and Credence used a cleaning spell to remove the last of the pink powder from Newt and where it had been trekked into the case.

“Thank you, Credence.” Newt murmured, eyes half closed and wrapped more cosily in Credence’s blankets in his cot. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Credence was pretty sure he would’ve died, but didn’t mention the frightening possibility.

“…Are you hot?” Credence asked, noting how red in the face Newt looked, sweat on his brow. 

“Oh, a little, it’s just a side effect of the poison…” Newt said, beginning to drift off again, “It’s alright, I’ll be okay, don’t worry...”

Credence got up quietly and left Newt then, returning a few minutes later with a wet cloth which he placed on the other man’s forehead. Newt was asleep by the time he’d returned but he turned into Credence’s touch and sighed calmly at the cooling sensation.

Credence sat by his side re-applying the cloth until Newt awoke, hours later.


	13. Difficult to Accept

It was another month before Credence received a reply from Hogwarts regarding his application to study there. Newt watched on in the kitchen as Credence opened the letter with shaking fingers and scanned over the contents of the letter.

Newt was surprised when Credence looked up at him, eyes wide and face deathly pale, then handed the letter to Newt which he skimmed over, smile turning into a large grin as he read the words ACCEPTED and LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU IN THE NEW YEAR along with a list of his necessary school supplies.

“Wonderful!” Newt cried and Credence just took the letter back, unable to believe his eyes. “I knew you’d be accepted!”

Credence stared at the letter, dumbly, then back at Newt, then back at the letter. 

“…Where is platform 9 ¾’s?” Credence asked, bewildered.

Newt clapped him on the arm and then poured them both a glass of their homemade orange juice to celebrate.

\---

It was still a few months until the new year at Hogwarts and Newt dug up every last text book he had thought to save for Credence to read. Newt’s book was being published now and he once again had to go to the ministry of magic to work in the beast’s division to make ends meet while he waited for its reception.

He was also busy planning a return trip to New York, to deliver Tina’s copy in person like he’d promised, though he didn’t tell Credence about that just yet.

Credence threw himself into his study with a gusto that Newt greatly admired. Now that he’d been accepted it seemed to consume his every waking thought. Often Newt would leave Credence in the mornings to go to the ministry and find him exactly where he’d left him when he returned. The only trace that he’d moved at all a smudge of dirt on his face or leaf in his hair from where he’d attended to the creatures in the case during the day.

Newt wrote to his Mother and excused himself from the invitation to join his family for Christmas under the guise that he was extremely busy, possibly disappearing to New York at any moment and therefore completely unavailable.

Truthfully Newt just wasn’t prepared to see his family again. Since his expulsion from Hogwarts and the war he’d been the black sheep of his relatives. While his brother’s fame and glory during the war had thrust the Scamander name into the spotlight Newt’s name was still synonymous with failure and he wasn’t ready to be met with the disappointed stares of his family or be questioned about the details of his trip to New York-forced to recount it over and over to anyone who asked.

So the days flew by and Newt and Credence began to fall into a natural kind of pattern. Newt didn’t bust anymore illegal beast rings outside of work after the Andoralisk sting (which had had Credence hovering by Newt’s side nervously for days after) and Credence began to grow steadily more and more excited and terrified of his impending education.

Newt worked with Credence to bring his practical magic up to scratch, Credence excelled at charms and herbology-though he struggled with potion making and found magical history very tiresome. Credence was fascinated by defence against the dark arts though Newt watched him carefully to make sure no signs of his obscurus returned.

It was a few days until Credence was set to leave for Hogwarts when Newt unrolled the daily prophet and read the headline, stomach falling out of him.

2 DEAD AFTER GELLERT GRINDLEWALD ESCAPES AMERICAN MINISTRY OF MAGIC  
Newt read in horror about how Grindelwald had killed two wizards escaping his cell at Macusa. How no one was certain how he’d done it or where he disappeared and that it was expected that it had been an inside man that helped him to escape.

An owl came later that day from Tina assuring Newt that she and her sister (as well as Jacob) were safe and well and that the Aurors were doing the best they could to try and capture Grindelwald before he could leave the country.

Newt wrote back as quickly as he could detailing his plans to visit as soon as his book was published and awkwardly scratched out three lines about how he was worried for Tina-and that he missed her-and asked her to stay safe.

Newt sent it without writing anything remotely romantic and rubbed his eyes tiredly once the owl had flown away.

Newt returned to the flat later that afternoon, prophet rolled up under his arm pit and grey faced knowing he’d have to break the news to Credence. He unlocked the door to their flat and the sound of soft jazz enveloped him as he walked inside.

Credence was sitting on the couch, gramophone turned toward him and Dougal wrapped around his shoulders, grooming his long hair affectionately while he read a textbook on potion brewing.

Both Dougal and Credence looked up as Newt entered and Newt felt guilt curl in his stomach as Credence smiled at him from where he sat. Dougal pressed his cheek to the top of Credence’s head orange eyes flashing blue for a second as Newt walked over to them.

“How are you today, Credence?” Newt asked, putting down his work case and sitting in the arm chair opposite the boy. Dougal slid from Credence’s shoulders and climbed into the boy’s lap, glancing at the rolled up prophet beneath Newt’s arm.

Credence shrugged and closed his book, making space for Dougal. 

“Fine.” He said.

Newt nodded and stared down at the table, trying to think of the best way to break the news to Credence, sure that it would upset him even if Grindelwald thought Credence was dead.

“…Is that the paper?” Credence asked and Newt glanced at it then nodded holding it out to Credence.

Before Credence could take it however Dougal leapt between them, snatching the prophet and disappearing. 

Newt stared, astonished, at where the paper had been then up at Credence who looked equally confused. After a few seconds Credence actually laughed, a brief, breath of a noise.

“…Dougal has been acting strangely all day.” Credence admitted. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Newt turned as he heard a window open and watched, bewildered as Dougal became visible long enough to drop the daily prophet out said window.

The demiguise eyed Newt closely, then closed the window again and crossed back to Credence, climbing up into his lap and staring at Newt, as if he was challenging him to punish him for his actions.

Newt stared at the creature and then shook his head, smiling.

“Strange indeed…”

It wasn’t until later that night, when they were preparing for bed that Newt finally put his foot down and took Dougal from where he was draped protectively across Credence’s lap and placed him back in his nest (since he refused to leave Credence’s side all afternoon and gave Newt a stern glance every time he tried to bring up Grindelwald’s escape).

He slipped Dougal back into his nest and then leant down, gently detaching Dougal’s arms from his shoulders as he placed him inside.

“Come now Dougal, you know we can’t hide it from him forever…” Newt whispered, stroking the soft fur around Dougal’s wise face.

Dougal stared up at Newt with sad eyes before finally settling down in his nest. 

Newt didn’t tell Credence that night-although he wanted to-as Credence fell asleep earlier than usual, nestled amongst his books in his cot and snoring comfortably.

Newt sighed, turned out the lights and left him in peace for a little while longer.


	14. Dark Confessions

“Credence, I have to tell you something.” Newt said. 

Credence was busy folding, packing and then re-folding and re-packing his suitcase. It wasn’t quite as large as Newt’s, but Newt had bewitched it so that there was more space inside than the common kind and Credence was nervously fussing trying to pack his few possessions into it.

Credence looked up at Newt before his gaze was drawn back to the case when Dougal appeared, blending into his robes and rolling about languishing among his things.

“You are impossible.” Credence murmured to the demiguise who just sat up, one sleeve of Credence’s old rug-jacket draped over his back and reached out to the boy, an invitation to be held (and more so-an invitation to attempt to distract Credence’s attention from Newt-and the news he’d been trying to tell Credence all day). 

Just as Credence was reaching out to pick Dougal up Newt stepped between them, taking Dougal and placing the Demiguise on the floor. 

“Run along please Dougal,” Newt said firmly, having had enough of his protective behaviour. Newt loved the demiguise as much as it was possible to love a creature-but Credence needed to be told.

Dougal stared at Newt, then at Credence before letting out a long sigh and disappearing.

Credence stared at the strange exchange between Newt and his creature. Then began to wring his hands nervously, eyes darting from where Dougal had been to Newt’s serious expression.

“…Have I done something wrong?” Credence asked.

Newt shook his head, unable to meet Credence’s eye and gestured for the boy to sit on his cot. Newt sat opposite him and fished out a copy of the daily prophet from under his pillow (the only place Dougal hadn’t looked-as he’d destroyed every other copy Newt had attempted to hide). 

“I’ve been trying to tell you-I just didn’t want to upset you… But since you’ll be at Hogwarts soon I know you’ll find out anyway.” Newt murmured.

Credence glanced down at the prophet, then back up at Newt.

“…What is it?” Credence whispered.

Newt handed Credence the daily prophet-where Grindelwald’s escape was still headline news. All the colour from Credence’s face drained and his eyes which had been shiny with mirth from Dougal’s peculiar behaviour went cold and hard.

Newt frowned sadly as he saw the change come over Credence. He had always been a serious boy, but lately that cloud of fear had begun to lift and make way for excitement and hope at the prospect of Hogwarts and a new life.

Grindelwald’s escape settled heavily on Credence the more he read and by the time he was finished his fingers were clutching the paper in his hands like claws. 

Newt watched Credence read and met his eyes when the boy finally looked up. 

“…What does this mean?” Credence asked. “…What if he finds me?”

“I’m sure he thinks you are dead.” Newt said with conviction. “And as far as we know he is still in America. If we’re lucky the Aurors will capture him before he can cross the sea.”

Credence went very quiet then, staring at the picture of a young Grindelwald smirking down the barrel of the camera. His face twitched with some suppressed emotion and Newt sighed sadly.

“I’m sorry, Credence.” Newt said. “I know this will put a damper on your journey…If you don’t want to go-“

“I want to go.” Credence said certainly, making Newt look up, surprised. “If he comes for me-I want to be ready.”

Newt stared as a strange and dangerous shadow seemed to pass over Credence, not quite the same as his obscurus but something deeper, something more darkly human. 

“…The teachers will protect you, Credence.” Newt said, though Credence didn’t look up from his hands. “Please don’t go looking for a fight-you won’t win.”

Credence glanced up at Newt then, that strange, wicked glint in his eye. The air around him seeming to go cold and frigid for a moment. Newt swallowed, but didn’t look away.

Credence looked back down at the paper then held it out for Newt to take. Newt took it and Credence stood, staring at the floor for a few moments before he excused himself. 

Credence went out for a walk that night and didn’t return until the very early morning. Newt finished packing his suitcase for him in a kind of nervous state, the creatures he visited also seemingly affected by the strange air around Credence as he’d passed them by.

That night Newt had nightmares about the subway again.


	15. Hogwarts Bound

“Now you’ve got your wand, your uniform and your textbooks?”

“Yes.”

“Your toothbrush?”

“Packed.”

“…Your jackets are all in the case-I checked twice for you.”

“Newt.”

Newt sighed where he stood opposite Credence on the platform. Being back on Platform 9 ¾’s with all the young students milling about and the familiar smell and heat of the train reminded Newt of his own short experience at Hogwarts and made his chest pang with longing and regret.

“…You’ll give pumpkin juice a chance won’t you? It really isn’t that bad.”

Credence stared at Newt then raised an eyebrow. They’d argued about the superiority of orange juice vs pumpkin juice for nearly an hour when Newt first introduced Credence to it. Credence had spat the pumpkin juice out, offended by the taste of it. Too used to freshly squeezed oranges.

Newt stared up at Credence, then at all the mothers and fathers bidding their children farewell all around them. Credence had no one but Newt, standing there in his blue jacket and his old scarf and Newt didn’t feel like he was enough. Not by a long shot.

Newt was never very good at goodbyes.

“I’m only an owl away.” Newt said suddenly, “If you change your mind-or you feel unsafe-just write to me.”

“I will.” Credence assured him. 

“…Remember to thank Professor Dumbledore for his help.” Newt said, “He’ll be your transfiguration teacher-pay attention, he is an amazing teacher.”

“I will.” Credence said again.

Newt nodded and the train controller whistled, alerting the students that the train would be leaving in under five minutes.

Newt and Credence stared at each other before Credence put down his suitcase and quickly crossed to Newt, wrapping him in a hug. 

Newt started at the embrace, but then patted Credence twice on the back with a small chuckle.

“I’ll see you during the holidays, if you want.” Newt said.

Credence nodded against his shoulder, then stepped back, picking up his suitcase again. Determined and confident.

“Thank you, for everything.” Credence said and then turned marching aboard the train before Newt could say anything else.

Newt watched him go, disappearing into the throngs of other young men and women his age and let out a long sigh.

You should never worry, it only meant you suffered twice, but Newt stood at the platform until long after the train had pulled away, with the warm press of Credence slowly fading until he could barely remember the feeling of it at all.

And for the first time in a long and very solitary life Newt began to feel lonely again.

\---

Aboard the train Credence was immediately hit with his first hurdle. His farewell with Newt had carried on for too long and so now there were no free compartments for him to sit in. He didn’t know any of the students-and so he would now have to sit with people who already knew each other and had already chosen a compartment of their own.

Credence felt sweat begin to break out on his forehead, nerves beginning to crush him already when a compartment door slid open beside him and an attractive young woman with a face of pretty, fashionable, make up stuck her head out the door.

“Excuse me, are you looking for somewhere to sit?” She asked.

Credence blinked at her and then nodded. The girl was wearing a yellow and grey scarf, the same kind that Newt constantly wore and Credence understood that to mean that she must be a Hufflepuff too.

“Well, there’s room in here, if you have nowhere else.” She said politely.

Credence smiled weakly at her and then joined her in her compartment. There was a young man their age inside as well and he smiled charmingly at Credence and moved his jacket aside so he could sit beside him after Credence stashed his case above them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“…Fulskin.” Credence murmured, taking the dainty hand the young woman opposite him offered him. “Clarence Fulskin.” 

“Clarence, my name is Elizabeth Berry, though most people call me Eliza, this is Serpine Fiddleson. Don’t mind his manners, he’s a Slytherin.”

“Ha, charming introduction, thank you Lizzy.” Serpine said and took Credence’s hand, shaking it firmly. It was only now that Credence noticed Serpine’s green scarf. “You’re a little older than most first years, aren’t you Clarence?”

“Uh, yes, I’ve been travelling.” Credence said shyly. 

“Oh! I thought I could pick an accent, are you American?” Eliza asked.

“Yes.” Credence admitted.

“Ha! Then that man you were with-on the platform-“ Eliza said excitedly, leaning in toward Credence conspiratorially, “Was that Newton Scamander?”

“Lizzy your motivation is showing.” Serpine drawled from behind her. Eliza frowned at the fair student and then turned excited eyes back on Credence, who nodded. Eliza clicked her fingers, beaming.

“Of course! I recognised him from his photos in the paper! The story of New York was tremendously exciting! Were you there?” 

“Uh…” Credence went a little pink, “Not really.”

“Oh, well that’s alright! Is he your relative?” Eliza asked.

“Fulskin, Lizzy, not Scamander,” Serpine cut in, eyeing Credence apologetically at the storm of questions. Credence looked away from Serpine and down at his hands, embarrassed but still just kind of grateful anyone wanted to talk to him. 

“Even so!” Eliza said, “You two seemed very close, you must be old friends.”

“…We, um, were flat mates.” Credence said dumbly.

Eliza and Serpine shared a look at one another that was barely detectable before Eliza sat back, pink and gleeful.

“Then I am free to ask, is he spoken for? Engaged perhaps?”

“My word Eliza, you are spending too much time with those suffragettes.” Serpine muttered teasingly while Credence’s eyes just went a little wide and he flushed. “Anymore forward and you’d be asking for his address.”

“Well I’ll take that too, if you don’t mind.” Eliza said jauntily before winking at Credence who felt thoroughly blown away by these two confident, modern, young people. “Well? Clarence? What do you think?”

“…I don’t know.” Credence said uncertainly. “I am-I think he’s unattached.”

“Excellent,” Eliza said, “Then I am still in the running.”

Serpine laughed while Credence went pink and eventually smiled at Eliza’s devilish smirk. Conversation moved on after that as Eliza had a way of casually weaving Credence’s small comments into segues and including him in her idle chatter-while Serpine teased and prodded kindly from time to time, watching Credence closely.

By the end of their trip on the train Credence thought he might actually be alright, while he walked alongside Eliza and Serpine (and as a small throng of young women flocked to Eliza’s side as she left the train, smiling curiously at Credence and accepting him without question once Eliza introduced him). 

By the time Credence spotted the thestrals he was confident enough not to ask any questions, though Serpine seemed to be the only other student who could see them and for some reason seemed to respect Credence a great deal more on that fact alone.


	16. White Lies and Saxophones

Dear N, S

My first term at Hogwarts is going well. I was sorted privately in the Headmasters office and have been sorted into Hufflepuff. Like you.

My new friend, Elizabeth Berry is also in Hufflepuff and I am very grateful for her. She cursed two Slytherins who thought my hair was unfashionable. They are still attempting to return their new hair colour from orange to its original dark black.

My other friend, Serpine Fiddleson, has just taught me how to transfigure a chair into a saxophone.

I do not know how to play saxophone. I may have lied about it.

How are the creatures? Is Dougal well? How is your publication going?

Yours truly  
C, F

\---

Dear Clarence,

I am so glad to hear you were sorted into Hufflepuff. It was always in an advantageous position close to the kitchens (where, if you are kind enough to house elves, they may even indulge your addiction to orange juice). 

I’m also glad to hear you have made some friends. Elizabeth sounds like a grand influence on you. I think your hair is very fashionable.

Unfortunately I am also unskilled on the saxophone and can offer no advice. I once played a violin to a particularly musically inclined Cerberus in Greece, but then a dog may not be the best judge of musical literacy.

The creatures are all well. Dougal is particularly unimpressed with your departure and refuses to separate himself from your hat (which he has borrowed, though when he will return it I couldn’t say). I’m sure he will understand what has happened in time. For the moment he sleeps in your cot during the day. 

My book has been printed! I’ve sent a copy with this letter for you to read when you have time. I am taking a small trip to New York to deliver a copy to Porpentina Goldstein (the Auror which you met in New York) and will then be travelling to Tibet to study the Screaming Alpas, a breed of magical ape that can sense when death is near and may have healing abilities previously unstudied.

I’ve attached a new address for you to send letters to-as I may be difficult to reach while overseas.

Merry Christmas.

Yours sincerely,

Newton Scamander 

\---

Letters between the two carried on in this way all the way through Credence’s first year-except for a brief hiatus during the last few months of exams when Newt did not send a reply for almost two months.

Credence was worried at first, but distracted by a great deal of happenings and goings on at the castle. Eliza was the head of a small group of suffragettes at Hogwarts who introduced Credence in turn to the idea of equality amongst all people (and also the strange prejudice against muggle born witches and wizards versus ‘pure bloods’ like Serpine).

Eliza was also viciously head strong and a master potions brewer. Her mother was a cosmetologist (a woman who specialised in Muggle hair and beauty products) and had raised Eliza from a young age to work with perfect measurements and be careful not to add too much of one chemical in case it damaged someone’s skin or hair.

So Eliza was not only one of the most headstrong, viciously friendly and proud young woman Credence had ever met-she was also frighteningly fashionable and had transformed Credence from a ragged, moppet of a boy at his arrival to a trim, tailored, gentleman (by her own decree). 

And her hexes, when she elected to cast them at bigoted Gryffindors, mouthy Slytherins or know it-all Ravenclaws stuck like nothing Credence had ever witnessed.

Serpine was quiet in comparison but another character that Credence fell in with quickly. Serpine enjoyed Quidditch and was a chaser on the Slytherin team. He was a natural at transfiguration and even Dumbledore admired his talents. Charms came to Serpine like thoughts came to most and Credence felt a kindred spirit in the quick witted boy almost immediately after meeting him.

Serpine was also Credence’s study companion. As he was less prone to distraction than Eliza was, who was constantly off with her many female friends or dashing from one topic to the next. Credence and Serpine spent many hours side by side in the library, where Serpine would patiently help Credence catch up to their level in classes he didn’t understand.

If Slytherins were selfish or unkind then Credence thought Serpine had definitely been sorted into the wrong house. Credence couldn’t think of what Serpine got out of hanging around with him when he could be off sneaking out of the castle with his other Slytherin friends, hanging out at underground jazz clubs in Hogsmeade or running around the grounds.

But Serpine never complained or teased Credence about his lack of experience or his confused questions. Just gently guided him through the literature or took his wrist and guided it in the correct direction while performing charms or spells.

In turn Credence was present at all of Serpine’s Quidditch games and most of his practices, wrapped in his scarves and Newt’s old grey jacket (which Eliza insisted required a tailoring, though Credence wouldn’t allow her near it) and Serpine grinned at him from on his broom.

The other Slytherins were suspicious of Credence, but afraid enough of Eliza that they didn’t dare tease him anywhere she might find out about it.

Herbology and care of magical creatures came easily to Credence, who had had a lot of practical experience with it during his short time with Newt. They were also two of the more physical classes and Credence quickly found that he, for all his slenderness, was one of the physically stronger of his fellow students (who relied almost entirely on magic instead of doing things by hand-where Newt had always encouraged Credence to see magic as a tool, not a necessity). 

Due to this Eliza teamed up with Credence exclusively in both classes and slyly insisted Credence do most of the heavy lifting since he was so fit and striking already. She would even make a big deal out of asking him to roll up his sleeves and show off his ‘strong arms’ to the other young ladies.

Credence went red every time she did this, but fell for it all the same. The strange thing was, in every one of his classes where Eliza insisted he do so the girls were extremely nice to him.

Serpine laughed every time Eliza re-told stories where Amanda Talbot accidentally dropped her mandrake pot when Credence lifted something especially heavy (causing it to scream and yell loud enough to knock out two Gryffindors who had been too close) or how Madeline Dawson would insist on patting Credence’s arms when he was only in his shirt and waistcoat in care of magical creatures.

“You are an awful influence, Eliza Berry,” Serpine would insist, smiling fondly at Credence who would just shrug and look embarrassed while Eliza sat against his side, sighing.

“I know, Serpine, sometimes I think I’m in the wrong house.” She’d say, smirking. “Though I see you hardly complain when our dashing Clarence volunteers to heft Quaffles in your direction during your practice sessions…”

“It’s good therapy.” Credence injected suddenly in the silence that followed when Serpine went a little red, thrown by the comment. “I don’t mind a little target practice.”

Both students stared at Credence before they laughed, patting him on the back. Behind them, Serpine’s bewitched gramophone spun merrily, playing a tune Credence remembered from a long time ago. While Eliza tugged at the ends of Credence’s hair and announced it was time for a re-style.

There were a lot of misadventures at Hogwarts that year and if Credence lingered a little longer on the troubling headlines concerning Grindelwald’s possible escape to English soil than the other students or if he paid a little more attention in defence against the dark arts than others his age than that was his business and went largely unmentioned.


	17. Correspondence and Gulleys

The end of the school year rounded on Credence before he knew what had hit him. Hogwarts had quickly become the home he had never had. The routine and classes as well as the camaraderie of so many people his age who treated him with respect and (mostly) courtesy bringing him out of his shell more than anything else could have.

There were OWLS and exams and so much homework Credence felt overwhelmed every moment he was awake. Still, Serpine was by his side and was ridiculously skilled at crafting schedules and forcing Credence to eat and drink and not drown in utter panic at how completely un-prepared he was in comparison to the other students while Eliza provided bottle after bottle of smuggled fire-whiskey, giggle water and sugary treats while somehow breezing her exams with little to no trouble.

“If you think this is challenging, my dear Clarence, try being a muggle woman fighting for the vote in London.” She said, sipping her whiskey between perfectly painted red lips.

Serpine threw a wad of balled up parchment at her, which caught her on the nose and began an epic fight between Eliza and Serpine including actual paper fighter jets which fired small spots of ink.

Professor Dumbledore tutored Credence in his spare time as well. The man was patient and took a lot of time out to speak to Credence about possible job opportunities after school.

Credence expressed a desire to follow in Newt’s footsteps as a Magizoologist which made Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle. Though Dumbledore was hedging at Credence to consider going for a role within the ministry. Such as a path as an Auror or somewhere where his talents in charms and defence against the dark arts could be put to better use.

Credence wasn’t certain that would be a smart choice after the events in his past but nodded and agreed to keep the professor happy (since he suspected Dumbledore knew more about Credence than he let on). 

Two months after his last letter and with the end of the school year coming around the corner Credence finally received another letter from Newt in Tibet.

It was written on the back of a Muggle post card and was delivered by a particularly disgruntled owl which Credence had to bait with a dead mouse to get his mail. It read: 

Dear C

Sorry about late reply. Fell down a gulley in Tibet. Rescued by locals. Had to barter for return of case. All well now. Travelling back to London to meet you at the station.

Yours sincerely

N S

Credence read and re-read the letter. Particularly the part where Newt admitted to having fallen down a gulley before he shook his head and made his way back to the common room. Eliza was spread out on one of the couches, reading a suffragette newsletter and frowning. She looked up when Credence arrived and smiled, tucking her legs up under herself so that Credence could sit at her feet.

“News, darling? Is your handsome friend terribly famous now and too busy to write?” Eliza teased, though she knew Credence had been worried about his friend and leant forward interestedly.

“He’s still in Tibet.” Credence said, “He’d fallen down a gulley.”

“Goodness!” Eliza said, leaning forward, “That is exciting! But he’s alright now, of course?”

“Yes, he’s alright.” Credence said. Eliza smiled. 

“Perfect, I want him in one piece when I come to visit you both over the holidays. I’ll be in London anyway, as you know, it’d be rude of me not to stop by.”

“Terribly rude.” Credence said, imitating her proper accent and making her smile.

“Awfully uncouth.” Eliza replied poshly.

“You’ll have to give me time to prepare him-before you’re introduced.” Credence said while Eliza settled her legs over his lap and smiled coyly at him.

“Darling you take all the time you require to introduce me properly.” Eliza said, “Serpine will be with me, if he can escape the nest of vipers he calls family. We were going to sneak into some of the night clubs, if you’re interested?”

Credence sighed and shot Eliza a look that was very Serpine and made her laugh.

“Come Clarence, what is the good of being magical if you can’t have a little fun?” She said. 

Credence secretly agreed, though he didn’t admit it. As his thoughts drifted more wistfully to seeing his friend again and spending time with his creatures inside of his magical case.


	18. Reunited At Last

Newt was late to the train station. 

The Ocean liner which had carried him home from his stop over back in New York had run late-again-two days late. So that Newt arrived back in London the same day that Credence was scheduled to arrive home from Hogwarts-arriving at port only 10 minutes before the Hogwarts express would pull into the station.

Newt was determined to be present when Credence stepped off of that train. He didn’t want him to feel as if he’d been abandoned or make him wait.

The second Newt stepped off the boat he ran to the closest muggle bathroom and apparated from there to the station. He almost splinched himself apparating between one muggle cubicle and the next and burst from the room, slipping on a wet floor tile and just regaining his footing before he could fall over.

Newt almost knocked over a muggle man slipping in between the portal to platform 9 ¾’s, apologising profusely before he disappeared (which would confuse that particular gentleman for many years to come). 

Newt skidded into the throng of parents and family members waiting for the train to arrive just as it pulled into the station. Newt threaded his way through the crowd, excusing himself as he made his way to the front. Hefting his case a little more comfortably in his hand and brushing his hair from his face.

He had a new scar on his jaw and shoulder from where he’d fallen earlier in the year, his sleeve was torn from where he’d caught it on a nail trying to get to the front of the landing party on the ocean liner and he had forgotten to do up his tie in his haste to get ashore as quickly as possible.

The train whistled to a stop and students began pouring from the train. Chattering and laughing and throwing themselves into their parent’s arms. Newt stood on tip toe, trying to spot Credence’s familiar mop of dark hair amongst all the teenagers. Trying to keep his eyes down when he recognised students from his own time at school and quickly side stepping anyone who tried to talk to him as politely as he could.

All of a sudden there was a tug on his torn sleeve and Newt turned, eyes going wide as he recognised the young man in front of him as his very own Credence Barebone, standing taller and fair more groomed than Newt had ever seen him. In a coat and jacket that fit him far better than when he had left.

“Clarence,” Newt breathed, smiling widely at his friend.

Credence smiled back at Newt shyly and took Newt’s hand. 

“Hello Newt,” Credence said, shaking his hand firmly and holding his eye. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, my friend.” Newt said, “You look-different. Your hair is shorter.”

Credence nodded, “I couldn’t keep Eliza from cutting it, she knew where I slept.”

“Formidable indeed.” Newt smiled, then took a step back as the sound of someone clearing their throat made both men turn.

Behind Credence Eliza was standing, she had a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them clutched to her chest and was smiling sweetly at them both. 

Credence raised an eyebrow at her and she winked at him before stepping forward, hand extended.

“Pardon me, sir, my name is Elizabeth Berry.” She said.

“Ah, Newton Scamander,” Newt said, gently putting down his case to shake her hand. 

“I have heard,” Eliza said, making Credence go a little pink, “I was wondering if you would mind signing my book? My Mother is a muggle who loves animals and I’d like to give it to her as a gift.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Newt said taking the quill Eliza seemed to pull from nowhere and quickly signing his name in the front of her book. Eliza smiled at Credence the whole time who just frowned at her, a little flushed. 

“It’s a fascinating read,” She said as Newt returned her book to her, “You must live a very exciting life, Mr Scamander.” 

Newt raised his eyebrows at her coy smile and glanced at the ground, smiling weakly before speaking.

“I suppose so.” He said, “Perhaps when you graduate you could pursue a career in the same field?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure, sir.” Eliza said mysteriously, “My interests lie in other places. Though I would love to hear stories about your travels in person, perhaps when I come to visit during the holidays?”

Credence stared, wide eyed at Eliza who just smiled charmingly, not removing her eyes from Newt who floundered under her stare.

“Yes, of course, well, any friend of Clarence’s is welcome in our home.”

“Excellent!” Eliza said, “I’ll write to you, Clarence. Until we meet again, Mr Scamander.” Eliza smiled one last time at Newt, winked at Credence and disappeared into the crowd.

Newt stared after her and then turned to Credence who still looked a little embarrassed by the entire affair. Newt smiled a little and Credence sighed.

“…We’ll have to make up a spare room.” Newt said.

Credence chuckled and shook his head before Newt patted him on the back and helped him carry his trunk out of the station.


	19. All Is Well (Enough)

The moment Credence got down the ladder Dougal was present.

Dougal had abandoned his attachment to Credence’s bed after a few weeks, though Credence’s hat had lived exclusively inside of his nest (no matter how many times newt tried to convince him to give it up). 

However demiguises were hard to surprise and so by the time Credence’s foot had hit the bottom of the stair the creature was there. Appearing in front of Credence with large, amber eyes, Credence’s dark hat clutched tightly in his small, pink, hands.

“Hello Dougal,” Credence said.

Dougal stared at the young man before climbing him like a flag pole and pressing his cheek to the side of Credence’s face with enough enthusiasm to make the young man laugh and stroke his fur. The creature even placed Credence’s hat back atop his head and began mussing up his well-kept hair to reflect the way it had been almost a year previous.

“Now look who’s playing favourites…” Newt muttered without feeling as Dougal refused to be put down. Holding onto Credence like a living scarf as he attempted to strip out of his jacket and waist coat. Dougal was one of the most excited creatures to see Credence again. Though the mooncalves ran to his side quicker than normal and the diricawls Credence had raised followed him through the different habitats peeping joyfully at him the entire time.

Even the graphorn baby, which was now almost up to Newt’s shoulder, pressed it’s large, horned, head to Credence’s shoulder affectionately when they fed them together again for the first time.

Newt hadn’t realised how much he’d missed Credence until he was back. Stepping back into their shared routine like no time at all had passed. He was even more intuitive with the creatures now after his care of magical creatures classes and he drew and used his wand with no hesitation at the appropriate moments.

Newt found himself watching Credence a lot during their first day back together, picking up on the small gestures which hadn’t been present when he left. Influences from his friends and twitches born of hours of study.

Newt had been afraid that Credence would return despondent, bullied and exhausted by his time at Hogwarts. Perhaps so troubled and lonely that he would need days to recharge, perhaps need to talk about various obscurial episodes or dark moments.

But Credence seemed to have thrived where Newt had failed and Newt couldn’t be happier or more impressed on his behalf.

“…You look well, Credence.” Newt said, as Credence sipped a glass of orange juice and stroked Dougal’s fur indulgently on their shared couch in the flat. The gramophone was spinning away quietly behind them and a new muggle club had opened down the road, the sounds of laughter and merry people drifting up from the street and in through the window.

Credence looked up at Newt, going a little pink at the compliment. He shrugged, putting down his juice on the coffee table and adjusting Dougal a little more comfortably against his side.

The demiguise barely noticed, eyes half closed and sleepy after an entire afternoon hanging off of Credence’s shoulders.

“I feel well.” Credence said, smiling. “…It’s good to be back.”

Newt returned the smile, nodding.

“…What happened to your face?” Credence asked and Newt blinked, unsure of what Credence was talking about until he touched the new scar along his jaw where he’d fallen, apparated at the last possible second and slowed his fall onto sharp stone as much as he could.

He’d broken his arm. But worse-he’d lost his case. The locals had found him, staggering around attempting to cast spells with his less-dominant arm and taken pity on him. Taking him in and nursing him despite his absolute failure at their language.

Luckily, a local witch had helped him locate his case and swapped him what little wizarding money he was carrying for local currency in order to buy it back.

The whole affair was a little traumatic, but worth it in the end. Newt was certain he was close to a break-through concerning the Screaming Alpas. Indeed, it was one of their screams that stopped him from stepping on a venomous snake (but unfortunately also prompted him to topple off the side of the cliff).

“Oh, yes, that. Just a small scratch. Nothing to worry about.” Newt said weakly.

Credence tilted his head at Newt and raised an eyebrow slightly.

“…It connects to a larger mark on your shoulder.” Credence continued.

Newt cleared his throat and rubbed the offending arm. He’d had to take a small trip to the magical hospital in New York to treat that particularly nasty break and spend a few days in Tina and Queenies apartment before they’d allow him to travel the rest of the way home (despite his protests).

Newt hadn’t wanted to overstay his welcome-nor spend too long in Queenies company-when he was fretting on and off daily about Credence’s arrival home.

“…I took a fall.” Newt said, “A small fall. Everything is healed now.” 

“…Down the gulley?” Credence asked.

“Down the gulley.” Newt said, nodding. 

It had been more of sheer cliff followed by a hundred metre drop than a gulley but Credence didn’t need to know the details.

“…Newt.” Credence said, using a stern voice that Newt was unused to hearing from him (it reminded him a little of the way that Tina would speak to him, when he was being purposefully vague).

“…A broken arm, Credence. A trifle of an injury, magically speaking.” Newt declared, before standing and crossing to the kitchen. “I think it’s almost time for Dougal to go to bed, don’t you think?” He asked from the other room. There was silence for a while before Credence stood and Newt heard the young man leaving the lounge room for the case. 

Newt stood in the kitchen, staring out into the street below before beginning work on their dinner for the night.


	20. Keys and Invitations

“Eliza wants to visit at the end of the week,” Credence announced. 

Newt and Credence were currently shopping for ingredients that needed replenishing within Newt’s case. After his trip to Tibet Newt had gone through a lot of his potion making ingredients creating tonics and remedies for muggle travellers and wounded creatures alike. A lot of it he could grow or make himself. But what he couldn’t needed to be bought.

Now that Newt’s book had begun to take off Newt could finally afford to do so. Due to an endorsement in the foreword by Albus Dumbledore his book had been very well received and Newt was receiving a liveable amount of royalties that allowed him to indulge in a few more luxuries than before.

Newt nodded at Credence, using his wand to summon a bottle of unicorn tears from a high shelf which Credence caught and placed carefully in their basket. 

“How long will she be staying?” Newt asked.

“She has a place in London.” Credence said, “With some of her friends, she’d just be visiting for a few days.”

“Oh, well she’s welcome, of course.” Newt said, rifling through some bottles and examining their contents carefully before handing them to Credence, who took it, catching Newt’s eye and the pair sharing an awkward moment when their fingers brushed for a second.

It passed and Newt turned back to his perusing while Credence kept his eyes diverted certainly to the floor.

“…I’ll have to get you a copy of the key.” Newt said suddenly.

“…It’s alright, I can unlock the door with magic.” Credence said.

“Not our door.” Newt said, smiling at Credence mysteriously for a moment before returning to his shopping.

Later that night Newt was drawn out of the case by an insistent ringing. He ran to the front door and flipped open a concealed trap door just over the threshold. At the bottom of it, barely managing to keep himself afloat in his nightclothes, was Credence. Wand held aloft, thrashing in the deep water at the bottom of the trap door.

“You could have just asked me!” Newt called, throwing down a rope. 

Credence climbed out of the trap door, with some help getting pulled out over the lip of it, splashing onto the floor in a heap and spitting up water.

Picket watched on from Newt’s shoulder as he dried Credence with a spell though he still hadn’t stopped shivering when Newt leant across and picked some pond weed out of his hair minutes later on the couch.

“You know you asked me once where I got all the fresh fish from...” Newt said conversationally and Credence glared up at him. Making Newt chuckle. 

Credence was still sniffling the next day when Newt returned home and pressed a key into his hand, patting him twice on the shoulder where he was sat up as close to their small stove as he could get.


	21. Salutations (and Solicitations)

“Clarence!” Eliza called.

“Eliza,” Credence said warmly, accepting the bouncing brunette into his arms as she practically jumped across the door step towards him. Her perfectly curled hair tucked neatly into a crimson hat with a matching blazer. 

She held him at arm’s length, beaming at him affectionately before she frowned, brushing some hair out of his face.

“Oh no, Mr Scamander’s styling has gotten to you already, I see.” She said, smiling at his messy hair and stained shirt (he had been working in the case before breakfast, he couldn’t be blamed).

“I’m afraid so.” Newt called from a few steps behind Credence, hanging back in the doorway where the two young people were embracing.

“Mr Scamander!” Eliza said, stepping forward and taking his hand gently. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise, madam.” Newt said. A little more prepared for Eliza’s company now that he’d met her once before.

“Madam, my goodness, I do feel grown up.” Eliza said wickedly, making Credence smirk and Newt go a little pink. “…Well, which one of you gentleman are going to give me the tour?” 

The tour wasn’t very long though Credence stalled a little as Newt very subtly cast tidying spells on the more ‘interesting’ projects coalescing in the kitchen and spare room before Eliza could see them. Credence and Newt’s shared room didn’t look very lived in (since both of them were far more likely to sleep in the case then in their actual beds) but Eliza didn’t mention it.

“My, this is very cosy.” She said, sitting down on Credence’s bed and looking around. “…How long did you say you two have been living together?”

“I didn’t say.” Credence said carefully. He’d never had a girl sit on his bed before and even though it was just Eliza he felt a little out of his depth. Like one of Newt’s creatures with a new specimen in his territory.

If they were creatures Credence was pretty certain Eliza would win in a fight.

“…Mysterious as ever, Mr Fulskin.” Eliza said, smiling with a peculiar glint in her eye.

Credence frowned at her when Newt knocked at the door, startling them both and leaning a little inside.

“Uh, pardon, would you two like a cup of tea?” Newt asked. Looking worried that he was intruding-even within his own flat.

“I would love one, thank you!” Eliza said, jumping up from where she’d been resting on Credence’s bed and brushing by Newt closer than appropriate on her way back out into the living room. “You certainly do know how to treat a girl, Mr Scamander.”

Newt and Credence blinked after Eliza had left the room and both swallowed at exactly the same time.

\---

“And Serpine will be here before the end of the night if all goes well!” Eliza said happily, blowing on her tea, “He’ll be staying with me, we’re only a short trip by floo from your place here. And he’s invited us to a new club that has opened on the corner of Fitz street. I thought you might like to accompany me-if you’re free tonight, Clarence.”

Credence sipped his tea and tried not to be uncomfortable at the way that Eliza was lounging so closely to his side. It was how they usually sat in the common room at Hogwarts-but it felt strange to be so openly tactile with someone in front of Newt. Who was so proper in some ways.

Newt was a little awkward, but Credence wasn’t sure if that was just because he was shy around strangers or especially nervous around Eliza, who flirted with him mercilessly despite the large gap in their age.

“I am free.” Credence said hesitantly, though he looked up at Newt, as if asking for permission. Unsure of how Newt would react to him venturing out on his own. He’d only left the flat without Newt once or twice, one of those occasions being when he’d gone for a walk the night Newt had revealed Grindelwald’s escape and he’d needed to clear his head.

Eliza didn’t miss the look and smiled sweetly at Newt where he sat, crossing her legs deliberately and leaning forward to place her empty cup on the table in front of her.

“You are welcome to join us as well, Mr Scamander.” Eliza said enticingly, “If you have no prior engagements…?”

Credence turned wide eyes on Newt who spat up his tea a little. Making Eliza smile behind a hand.

“Oh, no, thank you! I have a few-experiments which are-very-time sensitive.” Newt stuttered.

“Terribly sensitive.” Credence backed him up.

“-Can’t be away from them for long.” Newt said.

“That is a shame.” Eliza said, still smiling. She glanced down at her empty cup, then back up at Newt, who quickly refilled her cup. Then offered her a sugar cube, still a little shell shocked. “Yes thank you, I love my tea sweet…”

Credence kicked her in the ankle and she barely flinched when Newt awkwardly dropped two cubes into her cup.


	22. A Little Fun (Tipping the Scales)

“Your flat mate is absolutely fascinating!” Eliza said, her arm hooked through Credence’s where they walked down the London street. She’d swapped her sensible day outfit for a short dress and red shoes and Credence could feel the jealous eyes of passer bys as they walked. He kept a firm grip on the handle of his wand, while Eliza simply floated by. Confident and naïve in her youth.

“You scare him.” Credence said. 

“Hardly! I’m sure he’s very fond of me.” Eliza said, smiling. 

Credence shook his head and Eliza pinched his side with a chuckle.

“You are entirely too serious, Clarence.” She said, patting his arm. “It’s about time you have a little fun. Now. Where we’re going is just around the corner-but I need to workshop you a little before we go inside.”

“Workshop me?” Credence asked, looking down at himself. He was dressed in his grey jacket and good shoes at Eliza’s request. Eliza stepped forward and pinched the sides of his suit, primping him affectionately. 

“You’ve lost weight since you’ve come back to London, allow me.” With a wave of her wand and a few words Credence’s jacket synched a little closer to his waist. Credence touched his stomach, still surprised by how easily Eliza could perform such spells while she pulled a red rose pin from her hair (which was wet and dewy, as if it had only just been picked after being in morning rain) and tucked it into the top of his pocket. 

“Perfectly handsome.” She said, smiling brightly.

Credence went red under her attention and she kissed his cheek, before leading them on down the road again.

“Serpine’s going to meet us inside later. He knows the gentleman at the door. I told him that you’re Serpine’s cousin, Petrof, so just play along, won’t you?” Eliza asked.

“What? His cousin, why?”

“Well because this is a pureblood club.” Eliza said, a wicked glint in her eye. “And we are Mud bloods-and therefore not allowed inside.”

“Then why are we going inside?” Credence asked, suddenly nervous.

“Because there is no place on this Earth where someone tells me I am not allowed to go.” Eliza said confidently. “Relax, let me do the talking. Just look terribly brooding and self-important and we’ll be fine!”

Just before they were about to round the corner Eliza cast a mysterious spell on herself that made her cheeks and hair glisten. She spruced her curls, adjusted her dress and then flounced gloriously towards the front door of a nondescript hat-shop where a large man in a green coat stood, smoking.

Credence attempted to keep up with her, swallowing nervously and tipping his chin up in an attempt to mirror the attitudes of some of the Slytherin ‘purebloods’ he’d seen at school.

The man smoking at the door looked up when Eliza stopped in front of him, tipping her chin back, placing a hand demurely on her hip while the other one was curled under Credence’s arm. 

“…Names?”

“Petrof Darkshade and Ariana Silversmith.” Eliza said contritely.

The smoking man materialised a long roll of parchment from nowhere and began running a finger down the list. Credence could see a strange, skull shaped tattoo peeking out from on his neck and squeezed Eliza’s arm tightly.

Eliza made no sign that he’d felt it, though she pinched him back.

The man looked up at them, staring suspiciously at Credence who could feel their story slipping. He tilted his chin up a little higher and frowned at the man, as darkly as he could manage. Imitating a Slytherin boy who’d once spat at Credence when he’d admitted he’d been raised by muggles.

“Well, are we on the list or not?” Credence said in the most impetuous voice he could muster.

Eliza looked up at Credence, eyes widening for a second at the rude voice, before she turned back to the man, nodding insistently.

The smoking man inhaled his pungent cigar thickly and then nodded, taking a step back as the door behind him opened revealing a long, green tinged hallway and a flight of steps leading below.

“Thank you.” Eliza said graciously as she and Credence walked by the man and calmly went down the steps. It wasn’t until the door swung shut behind them that Eliza turned to Credence, eyes wide with excitement and laughed.

“That was amazing, Petrof!” She winked and giggled and pulled Credence along excitedly while Credence did his best reign in the feeling of utter dread beginning to overwhelm him.

There were portraits of beautiful wizards and witches lining the hall way on their walk in and Credence gazed at them all as they walked by. At the end of the green lit room was another door which a house elf opened for them, bowing low as they entered.

The night club was like nothing Credence had ever seen.

The room was massive and extravagant-two levels with a giant chandelier at its centre. Tethered to the chandelier a real, small, dragon was curled. Laying in a bed of gold at the chandeliers middle and spitting blue fire as the music below climaxed. The fire died before it could reach any of the patrons-courtesy of some kind of spell.

Credence stared up at the creature-and where its magical collar was strangling it and rubbing the scales raw around its neck. He felt a pang of guilt and sympathy for the creature and could only imagine what Newt would think.

“My goodness-is that real?” Eliza whispered clutching Credence’s arm and Credence nodded. “…He’s beautiful.”

Credence didn’t think so, but became distracted by the rest of the room.

They had arrived on the second level of the circular room. Below on the first level there was a stage in a far corner where a band was playing loud, upbeat music. On the other side of the room was a vast bar and waitresses threaded through the crowd in short skirts, using wandless magic to levitate glasses of champagne and other magical drinks on glass trays. There were a bunch of hidden alcoves and thick draped curtains hiding small groups of witches and wizards and the air was thick and heady with smoke from cigarettes, cigars and incense.

On the dance floor young men and women were laughing and dancing together, flashes of brightly coloured feathers and gaudy coats whirling around like some kind of dream. 

Credence had never felt so out of depth in his life-and wished-madly-that he had asked Newt to come after all.

“Oh, Clarence come on lets go to the bar!” Eliza whispered and pulled Credence towards one of the sets of stairs. 

It took them a few minutes to cut through the crowd surrounding the bar and Credence clung desperately to Eliza in the sea of handsome and beautiful people, all eyeing them curiously-as if they suspected something was afoot.

Credence did his best to look as if he belonged there while Eliza seemed perfectly in her element amongst a sea of suspicious people. Credence suspected the suffragette protests she’d attended had prepared her for this kind of jostling and subterfuge.

Once they arrived at the bar Eliza slipped onto a bar stool and gestured for Credence to do the same. She smiled charmingly at the bar tender, a dapper man with dark hair and a well fitted suit who returned the smile, tilting his head at her and Credence and looking at them with clever eyes.

“Aren’t you two a little young to be in a place like this?” He asked.

Credence opened his mouth to reply but Eliza beat him to it.

“Your door man didn’t think so,” She replied smartly, “And he seems like a very well cultured man.”

The barman laughed and winked at Eliza who smiled back. Credence was sweating already.

“Alright, alright, easy now, what’ll it be, doll?”

“Two of your house specialties please. Something sweet if you don’t mind.” Eliza said, confident as anything.

The barman nodded and turned away from them. Credence turned to Eliza, wide eyed, while she just smiled at him. So excited she was practically humming. They’d stolen whiskey before, drunk in the common room, sure, but ordering a drink at a real bar? 

Eliza leant over and took Credence’s hand, squeezing it.

“Are you alright, Petrof?” She asked kindly. “You know-we don’t have to stay.”

“I’m fine.” Credence lied.

Eliza smiled at him and released his hand as the bartender returned, placing two small glasses of something green in front of them.

“Now drink this slow, sugar, it’s French.” The man said before dropping a cube of sugar into both of their cups. “You too, mister.”

Credence nodded and Eliza went to pull out her purse before the barman shook his head, waving her away.

“Uh uh, put that away, sweetie, first one’s on me.” The man winked at them both before disappearing to serve another customer.

Eliza went pink, but quickly recovered, sweeping up her drink and holding it out to Credence.

“To new friends!” She said.

“To new friends,” Credence agreed and they clinked their glasses together before taking a sip.

Credence only pulled a little face as the liquorice-like substance hit his taste buds. It was intensely bitter-and sweet at the same time, an assault on the palette. Credence wasn’t a big drinker, nowhere near as into the trend as Eliza and Serpine were. 

Eliza’s nose only scrunched a little as she let out a satisfied sigh. Smiling and rosy cheeked already.

“Goodness that’s something!” She laughed, patting Credence’s arm. 

Above them the dragon roared and the music began to bounce into a racy, foot tapping, jaunt. Eliza smiled, turning and Credence stared up at the poor beast.

Newt wouldn’t have left it here like this.

“Come on Petrof!” Eliza said, picking up her drink and pulling Credence along, “Let’s dance!”

“Oh, no, I mean-I’ve never-“

“You’ve never danced?” Eliza asked as she pulled him toward the dance floor, through the closely packed crowd and passed leering witches and wizards.

Credence shook his head and Eliza just smiled, leaning in secretly. “Good. Let’s show them how real muggle-borns do it then!”

Eliza was a very enthusiastic dancer, Credence decided. It was difficult to keep up with her and not get distracted by the swirling of the end of her glittering, knee length dress or her sparkling cheeks and red lips.

But Credence tried, my god, did he try.

They were at it for almost an hour, having finally finished their drinks when Eliza finally grabbed Credence’s arm and led him off the dance floor, both red faced and out of breath as they fell into a small booth towards the bar.

“That was so fun!” Eliza giggled. She reached out and straightened Credence’s tie (which he’d borrowed from Newt) and smoothed his suit over his shoulders, smiling happily. 

Credence just beamed at her, pleasantly buzzed from the drink and the dancing. So buzzed he almost forgot where they were-or how dangerous it was.

“Yeah, those two over there,” Credence heard, he inclined his head as Eliza accepted a glass of something bubbly off a passing waitress and saw the smoking man at the door from earlier, talking to the sharply dressed gentleman at the bar. “Got two people upstairs who say they’ve never seen them before…”

“…Eliza, we have to go.” Credence said suddenly, grabbing Eliza’s wrist.

“…What?” Eliza asked, still rosy cheeked and smiling, expression suddenly dropping as she noticed the man at the bar pointing at them. “Oh gee, you may be right-hang on, don’t run.”

Eliza took her drink and Credence stood first before offering her his hand which she took, rising calmly and following Credence where he led them through the thick crowd. As they began to make their way toward the door Eliza stopped Credence, pointing subtly at where the sharply dressed man was standing there, as if waiting for them.

“We’re not getting out that way, my dear.” Eliza said calmly. Credence grabbed for his wand and Eliza stopped him, grabbing his wrist and gently patting a man talking with his friends in front of them.

“Excuse me sir, my friend and I are new here, is there perhaps a balcony where we might catch a breath of fresh air?” She asked sweetly while Credence kept his eye on the man at the door.

“Of course darling, you just go through that door over there and up the stairs. You need a little company?” The older man asked sleazily.

“Oh no thank you, my friend is terribly shy, perhaps another time?” Eliza offered with no real intent before gently guiding Credence toward the door indicated. She snatched up a man’s jacket on the way by an abandoned table and put it on, pulling a cigarette from the top pocket and using her wand to light it as she walked. She pressed the smoke to Credence’s lips and tapped the end with her wand, causing it to smoke far more than normal and cover their faces as they passed the landing near the sharply dressed man.

As he was about to turn toward them Eliza pretended to kiss Credence passionately (who was still sputtering on the cigarette in his mouth) and the man turned in the other direction, embarrassed.

“Come on Clarence!” Eliza whispered and pulled him up the stairs, breathlessly.

Credence stumbled after her, coughing around his cigarette and followed her before he paused, turning back to where he could still see the dragon, trapped and bound on top of the chandelier.

“Wait.” He said, a terrible, awful, fantastic idea dawning on him as he drew his wand.

He threw a hex through the air, which snapped the chain connecting the dragon to the chandelier. There was no response from the creature for a moment, before it turned its large, silvery, head in Credence’s direction, stretching out its freed neck and extending its wings.

Credence smiled as the beast tipped its head back and roared, breathing blue fire against the roof.

“Clarence!” Eliza called from the top of the stairs, missing the chaos beginning in the room as the dragon barrelled from the chandelier and began to tear towards the door where Credence was standing. It roared and Credence fell backwards, staggering up the stairs towards Eliza where she waited at the top.

“What did you do?” She cried, as there were yells and screams from below.

“Nothing!” Credence replied, as the stairway behind him was suddenly lit with bright, blue, fire. Eliza swung Credence out of the way and onto the small abandoned balcony as the dragon ripped and clawed its way up the stair they’d just been in and toward the sky above. 

It didn’t even to seem notice them as it tore past them onto the open air balcony, extended its wings, almost five metres across now that it was free and flung itself into the open air above the small roof top balcony. Roaring and beating its silvery wings until it became lost in the starlight, its underbelly matching perfectly with the starry sky above.

“Merlins beard,” Eliza breathed, clutching Credence’s chest with her wand drawn. “…He is beautiful.”

Credence smiled, his cigarette still dangling from his lips, holding Eliza close.

The other wizards and witches on the roof didn’t seem to think so and had all apparated or run down the stairs screaming at the sight of the giant, terrifying, beast flinging itself past them into the night. Eliza smiled at Credence and walked over to one of the tiny tables-where an open bottle of champagne was sitting in an ice bucket with two untouched glasses. 

She picked it up and then turned to Credence, offering the crook of her arm and smiling.

“Shall we?” She asked. 

Credence spat the still-smouldering cigarette from his mouth and crossed to her. Eliza took out her wand and cast a levitating charm on them as they stepped over the edge of the balcony together, walking through the air from roof top to roof top like they were in a dream-while miles away a reptilian shape roared in the dark, city, sky.


	23. A Quiet Moment

“So who is it, Mr Fulskin?” Eliza said. Her lips wrapped daintily around a cigarette and her legs hanging over the edge of an ornate, muggle hotel, balcony where she sat on the broad railing. “Who is it that has captured your eye?”

Credence sipped at his champagne, thoroughly intoxicated now and turned to her, cosy and warm where he stood leant against the railing beside her.

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“You know, who do you fancy?” Eliza asked. “I can never pick it with you, I’ve tried all year of course, but you’re so, damnably, mysterious.”

Credence snorted and laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m really not.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Clarence?” Eliza asked, casting soft eyes on him and exhaling smoke like the dragon they’d freed. Credence shook his head. “Good. Because I am not. I’m a Hufflepuff, I’ve never lied in my life.”

“Now that doesn’t sound right.” Credence replied.

“Oh?”

“No. Because I’m a Hufflepuff too and I’ve definitely lied before.” Credence admitted.

“What? When?” 

“Why, just tonight Miss Ariana Silversmith.”

“Oh, that.” Eliza smiled, stubbing out her cigarette and holding her hand out for her glass of wine which Credence handed to her. “That hardly counts. Those purebloods are no good anyway.”

“Maybe, but isn’t Serpine a pureblood?” Credence asked.

“You know, I’m not sure.” Eliza said. Then frowned. “Goodness I hope none of his relatives own that bar. He’ll be thoroughly disappointed in us.”

Credence laughed and after a few seconds of worried staring Eliza joined him, almost falling off the railing.

“Oh dear, oh dear. Now, where were we, oh yes. You were going to share with me all your deepest, darkest, secrets, Mr Fulskin.”

“I don’t think you really want that.” Credence said, a little more soberly. 

“Nonsense. Though I will settle for the superficial.” Eliza said without missing a beat. “Who is it? Is it Amanda Talbot? She’s frightfully fond of you.”

Credence snorted and shook his head, fingering his glass, a little red.

“…Well it can’t be Madeline Dawson.” Eliza said certainly.

“Why? Because she’s a Gryffindor?”

“No, because she is too busy with me.” Eliza said calmly.

Credence blinked then stared at Eliza, not sure he’d heard correctly. Eliza just smiled secretly and sipped her wine, making Credence laugh. 

“What do you mean?”

“When I was in third year,” Eliza said, “I slipped off my broom during a Gryffindor practice which I was not supposed to attend, let alone fly in, attempting to impress a boy,” Credence raised an eyebrow at that but Eliza hushed him, “I was younger then Clarence, it was awfully embarrassing, I fell almost 10 metres into the rest of the team. The boys all stepped backward, content to let me fall, while Madeline, bless her, caught me.”

“…From 10 metres?”

“Oh, well she broke her wrist.” Eliza said dismissively. “But she barely cried-and to this day it is still one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me.”

Credence stared at Eliza for a few seconds and mulled that story over for a few moments. He’d never heard of women being-romantic-with other women. Sodomites? Sure, he’d been warned off those very young by his radical mother. But two women?

…Where was the harm in it?

“…She is quite pretty.” Credence admitted and Eliza smiled a relieved little smile, leaning over and squeezing Credence’s arm before settling herself back more comfortably on the stone railing.

“Yes. She is… Have you ever had anyone do something so kind for you, Clarence?”

Credence thought back on his life and could think of only two times anyone had stood up for him. Once in New York, when that witch, Tina, with the short dark hair had attempted to get between him and his mother during a beating.

And then…

“…Newt Scamander.” Credence murmured.

“Pardon?” Eliza said.

“…He’s the only one who has ever done anything so kind for me.” Credence admitted, “Without asking for anything in return...”

“…Oh, Clarence.” Eliza said, reaching out and stroking his hair. Credence went red and swallowed down on a lump in his throat. “…For how long?”

Credence shook his head, shrugging.

“…Oh my dear.” Eliza pulled Credence closer to her side and he looped an arm around her hip, hugging her close and ignoring the painful ache in his chest at the admittance. “My, Serpine will be so jealous…”

Credence stared up at Eliza with wide eyes and she inclined her head toward him, finishing her champagne and dropping down daintily from the railing and into Credence’s arms. “Come on, let me take you home. I worry about making a bad impression upon your fantastic flat mate by being a bad chaperone.”

“Isn’t it the man’s job to chaperone?” Credence asked as Eliza handed him the champagne bottle, which he drained and then placed back in its bucket, sitting at the hotel balconies small table.

“Oh come on, Clarence.” Eliza smiled, taking his arm and pulling out her wand. “It’s a brave new world.”

\---

Eliza declined an invitation inside once they got to the door of Credence’s apartment and went to unlock the door by magic when Credence reached out and stop her-sobering for a second at the thought of them both taking a dip.

“I have a key,” He said by way of explanation and she smiled. “…Are you sure I can’t walk you home? It doesn’t feel right to…”

“I’m only a floo-ride away from home, Clarence and I know a place close by.” Eliza assured him, “And I’m better at handling my liquor. I hardly feel a thing.”

Credence nodded, tipsy enough to fall across the threshold at this point. Eliza smiled at him again and kissed his cheek, straightening his suit and tie and brushing his hair a little straighter around his face.

“Say goodnight to Mr Scamander for me, won’t you?” She whispered.

Credence nodded, squeezed her hand and then watched her disappear down the hall.

Credence turned then and puzzled the key into the lock, almost dropping it twice before the door finally opened. It was later than he had thought he’d be out, the sky outside beginning to grow shades of aqua and light blue, banishing the stars and moon and making way for a cool morning.

Credence stumbled into the living room, trying to be quiet as he peeled out of his jacket. He leant against a wall and undid his shoes and then tried to finger the buttons of his waist coat opened one handed as he made his way towards his and Newt’s small shared bedroom.

Only when Credence opened the door part-way he was met with unexpected sight of Newt actually asleep in his own bed. 

It was unusual for Newt to sleep outside of the case-and Credence couldn’t think of a reason why Newt might be sleeping outside of it-unless he were waiting for him to come home…He certainly wasn’t dressed appropriately for bed.

Credence stared at the lightly snoring man (and the note book perched atop his crossed hands in his lap) and then carefully closed the door again before stumbling over to the couch.

I can’t wake him. Credence thought guiltily and collapsed onto the small couch in the living room, covering himself with his jacket and draping an arm over his eyes.

He fell asleep almost immediately.


	24. Bitter Mornings

“Dougal-don’t.”

Credence felt something warm settle over his face. He sniffed and then fell back asleep. 

What might have been minutes or hours passed and Credence felt himself being petted at by small fingers. He cracked an eye open, head sore and exhausted as he realised he wasn’t lying in his cot in the case.

Hanging over him, held in the air above his face, was Dougal.

“…Dougal?” Credence asked, then coughed, his throat soar and raspy. Like he’d been smoking cigarettes all night…

He hadn’t smoked any cigarettes though, had he?

Dougal disappeared from view and there was Newt, looking a little sheepishly down at Credence where he was lying. Gently dropping Dougal on the floor.

“Good morning.” Newt said brightly.

Credence stared at Newt, then scrubbed a hand over his face. Then realised he was still in his waist coat-and that his legs were hanging awkwardly off the edge of the couch in the living room where he’d slept in his socks.

Credence’s eyes went wide and he sat up suddenly, fast enough to make his head spin a little. Newt straightened, then reached behind him and offered Credence a glass of orange juice.

“You were out late.” Newt said as Credence took it numbly, going over the events of the night before in his mind, horrified. “Did you have fun?”

“Uh.” Credence rasped, then drank some of his orange juice, going a little pale as he realised he let Eliza walk herself home. Then paler still as he remembered he’d released a dragon in a pureblood night club.

Newt smiled down at Credence expectantly and Credence stared up at him, wide eyed before nodding, feeling a little sick.

“Oh, well that’s good…There’s some breakfast on the stove-if you’re hungry.” Newt said before crossing to the coat rack by the door. 

“…Are you going out?” Credence asked and Newt nodded.

“Yes, I’ve been called into the ministry due to an emergency. Someone’s released an immature Swedish Short Snout overnight and they need a dragon expert to catch it.” Newt said pulling on an old, ratty, fire singed jacket instead of his usual blue one. “They shouldn’t even be in this part of the world…I’m almost certain it is an escaped parlour pet-and I hope to capture it without too much injury on either of our parts.”

Credence stared at Newt without saying anything while Dougal climbed onto the arm of Credence’s chair and watched him closely, as if he knew that Credence was concealing something.

Newt stood on the threshold, turning back to Credence and smiling politely at him from the doorway before noticing how pale Credence was looking.

“…Is everything alright, Credence?” Newt asked.

Credence had such a tight grip on his glass it was almost about to shatter. Dougal carefully pushed Credence’s hand down until the base of the glass sat on the table.

Credence nodded tight lipped.

“Yes. Fine.” He lied.

Newt stared for a few more seconds before shrugging, “I should be back before supper, could you feed the creatures before you go out today? I haven’t had time yet.”

“Yes, of course.” Credence murmured.

“Good.” Newt said and turned to leave.

“Hey, Newt!” Credence called, causing the man to step back into the room, Credence swallowed.

“…Be careful.” He said, chickening out at the last moment.

Newt stared at Credence’s odd behaviour and then smiled confidently.

“Don’t worry.” Newt said, “I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he was gone.

Credence stared at the place where he had been and then held his head in his hands.

“…Don’t look at me like that, Dougal.” Credence murmured and the demiguise flopped from the couch and disappeared.


	25. Seemly Creatures (and Where to Find Them)

“My what a funny little creature you are!” Credence heard sometime later.

He quickly ran from the bathroom where he’d been washing off the dirt and grime that accumulated during feeding time within the case, dressed in nothing but his slacks as he rounded the corner into the living room. 

Eliza was sitting on his couch, immaculate as ever, with Dougal sitting in the arm chair beside her, watching her closely where she was holding out her hand to him.

Both of them looked up as Credence barrelled around the corner, wet haired, shirtless and wand drawn. Dougal blinked at Credence and tilted his head to the side, while Eliza went a little pink.

“Clarence!” She cried, then laughed, “My, you are seemly this morning! If only Amanda Talbot were present!”

Credence covered himself and then made an indignant little noise before running back to his room to grab a clean shirt and shrug it on.

When he returned Dougal was nowhere to be seen and Eliza was investigating the remains of breakfast in the kitchen.

“How did you get in?” Credence asked.

“By floo, dear boy, I just found out your stove is connected.” She said simply. Credence wondered at that, he hadn’t travelled by floo yet. As Newt didn’t seem to favour that kind of transportation much. “And where is Mr Scamander this morning?” she asked innocently.

Credence went red and dragged a hand through his wet hair.

“Out. Capturing a recently freed dragon.” He said cryptically.

Eliza broke into a fierce grin. “Ah, but we wouldn’t know anything about that, now would we?”

Credence stared at Eliza before sighing.

“You remember it all don’t you?” Credence said.

“Of course,” Eliza stated, straightening up and moving around the kitchen curiously, she eyed Credence then, the kitchen table between them, “Don’t you?”

“…Yes.” Credence admitted.

“…Good.” Eliza replied. “…Now where is that adorable little monkey? I’ve never seen a creature with such beautiful eyes…”

\---

Eliza insisted that Credence join her on a trip to a local magical café down the road after that to drink coffee and talk about their night. Serpine also met them there, appearing by floo a little while later.

“What. Did you. Do?” Serpine asked Eliza in way of greeting. 

Eliza smiled up at Serpine over her cup of coffee and sipped innocently.

“I think that is rather more a question for our dear Clarence, here, isn’t it?” Eliza said, passing the blame.

Credence looked up at Serpine who stared down at him with wide, shocked, eyes.

Credence frowned apologetically and Serpine practically collapsed into the seat beside him, holding his head in his hands.

Eliza just smiled at Credence who was forced to murmur the entire story to Serpine into the crook of his elbow, as the Slytherin refused to sit up or make any sounds except for harrowing sighs and ‘Oh no, OH NO’s’ throughout.

Credence excused himself from any further adventures after their trip to the café by citing how tired he was from the night before (though the coffee truly had perked him up considerably). Which made Eliza smile even wider and Serpine stare at him through blank, disappointed, eyes.

“You can’t leave me with her, I’ll be killed by association.” Serpine whispered to Credence as he hugged them both goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” Credence murmured back and Eliza laughed at them both before taking Serpine’s hand and leading him away.

“I’ll call by owl before I arrive tomorrow,” Eliza cried, “So that I don’t catch you so indecent again!”

Credence flushed (more still when he noticed the way Serpine’s eyes went wide and his cheeks coloured a little as he stared at Eliza, then back at Credence). He bid them farewell and turned away. Brushing his hand over where his male friend’s words had tickled against the side of his neck.

There was a lot to think about.


	26. Guilt and Smoke

Newt didn’t return home until long after dark. Credence was set to stay awake for as long as it took, feeling guilty for putting Newt in danger due to his choices. The clock was ticking onward toward 11 when the door finally opened and Credence heard Newt’s heavy footsteps clambering inside.

Credence sat up in the arm chair where he was sitting-reading through Newt’s book as the man himself clamoured into the room, shrugging off his singed coat onto the stand by the door and undressing as he walked with a far-away stare.

“…Newt?” Credence asked and Newt turned, eyes a little wide, as if he’d forgotten Credence was at home.

“Credence.” Newt said, standing up a little straighter and looking down at where he was half way out of his clothes already. He cleared his throat and tucked his waist coat a little tighter around himself and put on a tired smile. “Good evening, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Credence said, putting his book down beside him. “Did you capture the dragon?”

“What?...Oh, yes. Yes we did.” Newt said, scrubbing some soot from his brow and smudging it over his face. 

Credence felt awful just looking at him.

“…There’s dinner on the stove.” Credence said.

Newt smiled and nodded tiredly, walking into the kitchen. Credence stood up and followed him, worried that Newt might hurt himself in his exhausted state.

Newt slid up against the counter, blindly reaching around in the cupboard until he found a bowl and then thumbing through the cutlery draw until he came up with a fork (it was soup on the stove, so a fork wasn’t ideal). 

Credence waited for Newt to ladle himself something to eat before he subtly swapped Newt’s fork for a spoon when he was looking around for a glass which he filled with water with a tap of his wand. 

Then Newt fell into his seat at the kitchen table and began to robotically shovel soup into his mouth. His skin looked red and fire licked, his lips cracked like he’d been out in extreme heat. Credence noticed, with a severe spike in guilt, that some of Newt’s fingers were red and blistered.

“…Are you alright, Newt?” Credence asked once Newt had slowed down on the shovelling and was beginning to lose steam. His blue eyes slipping half closed where he sat, determinedly making his way through his bowl.

Newt glanced up at Credence, his usual vitality drained by what must have been a very long day’s work.

“Oh, yes…Just tired Credence. Frightfully tired…” Newt mumbled.

“…You look-singed.” Credence said and Newt looked down at his fingers where they sat against the kitchen table, red and sore. He closed his hand into a fist and released it, sighing.

“It’s alright.” He murmured, “During the war-It was always like this.” 

Credence stared at Newt. He’d read about the magical war-the muggle one had been bad enough-but the magical one had been horribly brutal. Dragons, unforgiveable curses, spy cells and uncertainty about the magical world’s future in the face of modern muggle warfare.

Credence had never understood the motives for the war-but he understood what the fallout looked like and how it drained people and made them into shadows of who they were. Suspicious and cruel and scarred. He’d grown up around it in New York. Had only just avoided the reality of it himself.

His heart went out to Newt. 

“…I can help with that.” Credence said and Newt blinked, looking up at him with tired eyes. “I want to.” Credence assured him when it looked like Newt was going to decline.

“…Alright.” Newt sighed, “I mean…Yes, thank you.”

Credence nodded and followed Newt into the bathroom. 

\---

“Credence, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment.” Newt said and Credence turned away while Newt peeled out of his shirt.

Credence was certain he’d never been in a more heart-hammering moment in his life as when he heard the sounds of Newt sloshing water onto himself behind his back-and he’d freed a dragon the night before.

Newt didn’t waste time though and a few moments later he tapped the youth on the arm and Credence turned back around. A little pink around the ears but the light in the bathroom was bad and he was sure Newt wouldn’t notice.

Newt had a towel draped around his shoulders but was completely bare beneath and Credence noticed (without meaning to stare) that the man was incredibly slender. Even thinner than he was-though Credence had put on a lot more weight at Hogwarts-where the meals were heartier and he didn’t feel as bad at eating Newt out of house and home with no way to repay him.

Newt though, he was thin. Scarred and muscled in places from working with his creatures, but thin.

Newt sighed again tiredly and sat back a little more against where he was sitting on the edge of the tub, he gestured for Credence to sit on the toilet and plucked a tub of some ointment from the bathroom cabinet. Handing it to him.

Credence popped the lid, sniffed the contents and made a face.

Newt chuckled for the first time that evening.

“I know, pleasant isn’t it?”

Credence frowned and Newt smiled again and then turned his right side to Credence. There was a red, blistering mark down the back of his neck. His hair was singed behind his ear and the ear itself was an angry red. The red continued over his shoulder, though it was worse at his neck.

“…It’s not as bad as it looks.” Newt said over his shoulder and Credence swallowed and nodded, dipping his washed hands into the salve and then carefully smearing some onto the red, blistered, area.

Newt flinched away from the touch instinctively and Credence cringed back until Newt apologised and squared his shoulders, encouraging Credence to continue.

In the silence that followed Credence felt guilt gnawing at him like an insistent pixie.

When Newt reached blistered, red, fingers back to push some of his hair out of Credence’s path Credence couldn’t take it a second longer.

“I released the dragon.” Credence whispered.

Newt inclined his head toward Credence, frowning at him.

“…What?” Newt asked.

“The Swedish Short Snout.” Credence said, his confession spilling from his mouth and making his eyes burn with regret, “Eliza and I were at a pureblood-only night club-last night-and it was chained to a chandelier and we were leaving and I felt awful about leaving it there and so I released it!”

“…A pureblood only night club?” Newt asked, turning to Credence with wide eyes. “…What were you doing there?”

“Eliza wanted to go.” Credence whispered. Newt’s face was blank except for his wide, bewildered, eyes. “Our friend knew the doorman-we lied our way in.”

“…Credence,” Newt said in a small voice, “Why on Earth would you want to go to a place like that?”

“…I don’t know.” Credence muttered. “I’m sorry.”

Newt stared at the young man in front of him and then at the floor, hard, like he was thinking very carefully.

Credence watched on, hand beginning to tremble, as he waited for Newt to become angry and lash out at him, blame him for his injuries, kick him out onto the street and out of his life. 

Newt just looked back up at Credence with frightened eyes.

“Credence…Grindelwald has been free for almost a year.” Newt said with a hollow, worried, voice. “Where do you think a man like that would go to look for new followers? For new people to worship his anti-muggle dogma and join his army?”

Credence sucked in a short, scared, breath and held it.

Newt shook his head, scrubbing his hands over his face and taking a second to compose himself.

“I’m not angry at you Credence.” Newt finally said in a small voice, “I’m not upset about you freeing the dragon-though it was incredibly dangerous and short sighted-I’m hardly one to lecture you on that kind of thing.”

Credence stared at Newt, eyes watering and fists clenched around the tub of ointment still in his hands.

“But I can’t believe you would endanger yourself like that.” Newt said, casting disappointed eyes on him that made Credence’s stomach drop. “After everything we’ve done to keep you hidden-and keep you safe.”

Credence’s lower lip trembled and he dropped his gaze to the floor, tears dripping over his chin as thick shame poured over him like molasses and a terrible sense of dread began to crush him at Newt’s words.

Newt sat, awkwardly naked and burnt on the side of the tub while Credence trembled and attempted to stop himself from crying-or panicking. Finally Newt sighed and took the ointment tub from Credence’s hands, placing it on the floor and then patting the young man’s trembling fingers with his rough, calloused, ones.

“Credence, I know you must feel caged by your past.” Newt said, “By what happened to you...And having to lie to your friends.”

Credence sucked in a stuttering breath and tried not to shy away from where Newt was holding his hands, still sitting, still just at his eye level.

“…But now is not the time for your rebellion.” Newt insisted, “Not when you are still in school, while you are still so new to all this.”

“…I just wanted to have fun.” Credence admitted, unable to meet Newt’s eyes. “I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t think.”

“…You’re young Credence.” Newt said patting his hands and making him look up. “And I’m sorry you have to grow up so quickly…But you’ll have to. Faster than any of us-all of you will.”

Newt released Credence’s hands and Credence snatched them back, making Newt look up, a little startled.

“…I’m not that young.” Credence insisted, staring intensely into the other man’s eyes, propelled by an impulsive bravery. 

Newt stared at Credence for a few seconds before carefully pulling his hands out of his grasp. Credence let him, cheeks red and wet from his earlier tears.

“…I think I can handle the rest on my own, thank you Credence.” Newt murmured finally.

Credence blinked at Newt and then nodded before getting up and leaving Newt alone with his ointment in the bathroom. In the silence that followed Newt flexed his fingers and then rubbed them across his face with a sigh.

Credence slept in his own bed that night while Newt retired to within the case.


	27. O.W.L’s

Eliza sent an owl exactly 10 minutes before she arrived by floo, Serpine in tow, bouncing on her heels and all but tackling Clarence in a hug as she appeared. Waving a letter in her hand.

“Our OWLs have come through!” Eliza cried, “Have you read yours yet? Serpine did ridiculously well, of course-and I passed everything I needed to! Show me yours Clarence! Oh won’t you?”

Credence had only just finished reading over his OWL’s (all of which he’d mercifully scraped by in) and Serpine smiled at Credence, patting him on the back and congratulating him. 

Credence didn’t feel nearly as excited as Eliza and Serpine were-though maybe that was because he hadn’t had the opportunity to show Newt yet. As the man had remained in his case all night and still hadn’t surfaced though it was past noon.

“Oh this is wonderful! We’ll have to celebrate!” Eliza cried. “But where is Mr Scamander? He should come with us!”

“I’m sure Mr Scamander has better things to do than endure more of your flirtations, Eliza.” Serpine insisted quietly. Credence smiled at him while Eliza just fell into the couch below her dramatically.

“Serpine, why must you be so shallow? He’s Clarence’s friend! I’m sure he’d like to join us!”

“He’s not feeling very well at the moment.” Credence broke in before the conversation could escalate (and it was going to-if Serpine’s serious face was any indicator). 

“Oh?” Serpine asked, “Is he alright? Eliza told me that he had been sent off to deal with your little accident.”

Credence tried not to let the comment sting him. Looking away from the pair of them and flexing his fingers. 

“…I haven’t seen him since he retired to bed last night.” Credence mumbled.

“Oh no…The poor man, he must be exhausted. Tangling with dragons sounds amazingly dangerous.” Eliza sighed, wistfully.

“You are deranged.” Serpine told her calmly, sitting beside her on the couch.

Eliza kicked him. 

“He was tired.” Credence said. “I don’t want to disturb him.”

“…Are we intruding?” Serpine asked, glancing at where Credence had appeared from (and where his room was located). Eliza sat up a little straighter, looking in the same direction with concerned, serious eyes.

Credence shook his head. 

“No, no-there’s a-uh-silencing spell on the room. He won’t mind.” He lied as he hadn’t revealed the nature of Newt’s case to anyone at Hogwarts, not even his close friends.

Serpine nodded and Eliza smiled, nodding.

“Alright then we’ll leave him a note! So that he can join us when he wakes up! If he’s so inclined.” She said. Crossing over to Newt’s writing desk and helping herself to quill and parchment.

Serpine sighed exasperatedly and glanced at Credence who just looked a little morose, sitting in the arm chair beside the other young man. 

“…Is everything really alright, dear boy?” Serpine asked.

Credence looked up at Serpine then and swallowed a little. Serpine nodded minutely without speaking and patted his arm once while Eliza finished her letter.

“There! I’ve told him we’ve gone shopping at Diagon and will quite possibly be dining at the muggle café down the street… Since some of the waiters there are just-“

“Don’t write that last bit down.” Serpine said. “You’ll mortify the man so much he’ll never let Clarence have friends around again.”

“Bent broom.” She said curtly.

“Slapper.” Serpine replied.

“How dare you!” Eliza crowed and then threw a hex in Serpine’s direction that caused flowers to sprout in the curtains just by where his head had been.

5 minutes later and Eliza was begging Serpine to change her crimson hat back from its new form as a green tea cosy while Credence was madly stamping out a small fire in the carpet.

“Alright,” Credence announced, making them both turn to him for a moment, “It’s time for us all to leave.”

“Change it back, Serpine!” Eliza snapped, elbowing the Slytherin as she stalked by him. 

“No I don’t think so, I think it looks better like this, don’t you Clarence?” Serpine asked while Credence picked up his coat, glanced back at the note they’d left for Newt and then gently tucked his OWL results beneath it before joining Serpine and Eliza at the door, closing it behind them with a quiet click.


	28. The Goldstein Sisters

Newt didn’t leave the case until he was certain Credence and his friends had disappeared. Not because he was avoiding Credence-Newt was a grown man-he didn’t do that kind of thing.

He didn’t. The creatures needed attention, their enclosures needed extra cleaning, the nundu needed an infected tooth extracted…

Newt sighed and left the case, changing into new clothes and setting about washing his dragon-catching ones in the bathroom. Once the spell was set up he had a long soak in the tub, washing his hair and the ointment away and assessing the lasting damage from the Swedish Short Snout on his fingers (not so bad, they barely hurt at all).

Feeling a lot better and a lot more capable of dealing with Hogwarts students Newt left the safety of the bathroom, tooth brush hanging from his lips as he walked bare footed through the house, lighting the small flat as it was quickly creeping toward late afternoon. 

As he went into the kitchen though he noticed a letter had been slipped under the slightly ajar window. Addressed to him in printed font.

Newt smiled and examined the letter, recognising the type writer font immediately.

Tina.

Newt left his tooth brush at the kitchen sink and opened the letter excitedly, always happy to hear from his friend across the sea. Tina had been a constant pen pal since the affair with Grindelwald and always kept Newt up to dates on the dangerous man’s movements.

Newt wondered if this letter would have more information about Jacob-who Queenie now visited regularly, laws be damned. Newt had several photographs of the man and his bakery inside of his case, pinned to the wall above his bed beside portraits of Tina and Queenie and his family.

However Newt’s excited mood dropped the second he read the first and only line. As it read:

Dear Newt

Queenie told me. 

Tina Goldstein 

Newt’s eyes widened and he dropped the letter on the table. Staring at the wall opposite.

Of course Queenie read his mind-of course she knew about Credence-it was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to stay in their apartment when he’d broken his arm in Tibet. Why he’d insisted he could just stay in the case on some street corner or down some abandoned alley while he healed after the trip to the hospital.

But no, he’d been foolish and fallen for the hot cocoa and good company.

“…Bugger.” Newt said into the silence of the apartment.

After a few minutes he glanced into the living room-where two pieces of parchment were sat below a paper weight from Newt’s writing desk.

Newt got up and crossed over to them, reading Eliza’s neat cursive first and then thumbing over to Credence’s OWL’s results. Newt felt guilt and pride well inside him at Credence’s good results. Here he’d been too embarrassed to talk to Credence after the strange moment in the bathroom the night before and so he’d missed out on celebrating something important.

And now Tina Goldstein was most definitely onto them and most likely on her way to London right now to put Newt in his place about keeping the whole affair a secret for so long-possibly with the entirety of Macusa behind her.

“Oh dear…” Newt mumbled. “I’ve bumbled everything.”

Behind Newt the curtains which Eliza had hexed earlier (which had now grown moss, bracken and an array of rainforest flowers) as if to punctuate his statement broke off from their hanging and fell to the floor.


	29. Tragedy

“Serpine he hit you with a beaters bat.”

“He’s my cousin-that is what cousins do.”

“No it’s not! He’s a thug! You can’t possibly defend him!”

Credence watched Serpine and Eliza back on forth, sipping at his tea quietly as the sun began to fall low in the sky where they sat at the local muggle café down the road. Credence would glance over his shoulder now and then, waiting, hopelessly, for Newt to appear.

“…Clarence, tell him, tell him what you think of Dunford!”

Credence looked up to find himself under the stare of two very passionate, very hex capable magical folk fixing him with equally intimidating stares.

“…Is he the short one?” Credence asked, playing dumb.

Serpine frowned and Eliza’s serious face cracked into a very un-lady like snort.

“Yes! He is quite short isn’t he?” She laughed and Serpine covered his face sighing.

“You are both awful.” He said, though he smiled at Credence to show he was only joking.

Credence smiled back and felt a little awkward about it, hiding his pink cheeks behind his tea cup.

“Mercy, we’ll have to leave these poor muggles be soon.” Eliza said, looking around at where the staff were attempting to clean up and close down their café around them. “I’ve completely lost track of time!... I really thought we’d have the pleasure of your flatmate’s company this afternoon, Mr Fulskin…” She said a little disappointedly.

Credence shrugged, his bad mood returning.

Serpine noticed and quickly intervened, “Perhaps we could go for a stroll? It’s a nice evening…There’s a decent park down the road. We could set lights in the trees and tell stories.”

Eliza immediately brightened at the idea, eyes shining as she reached out and clutched Serpine’s hand, smiling.

“What a beautifully romantic idea, Serpine! I simply cannot believe you are a Slytherin some of the time! Perhaps we could break into a muggle opera tonight!” 

“Nor I that you parade so prettily at being a lady some of the time. With the amount of break and entry you are fond of.” Serpine said, standing up and leaving a large amount of muggle money on the table. 

Credence smiled at them both and stood with them, casting one more forlorn look in the direction of the flat before he followed them down the street, linking arms with Eliza on her left side while Serpine took the right.

Credence worried for a moment-about Newt’s warning about Grindelwald and his followers but decided that he’d rather face a fanatic than that same, disappointed and shocked look on Newt’s face from their awkward interaction the night before.

\---

They were out late again. Credence wondered if Eliza ever slept-or if she just ran purely on her own endless fount of vitality the same way that Newt seemed to. Serpine at least had the graciousness to look a little tired as they left the muggle opera, arm in arm while Eliza just swooned at all the beautiful head pieces and women in their gowns.

“It’s so amazing! I always wanted to go to a show like that when I was a little girl!” Eliza said.

“I found it a little boring.” Serpine said.

“Of course you would, Serpine, I’m sure you’ve been to a hundred of them!” Eliza snapped.

Serpine shrugged, smiling at Credence who was too tired to really offer a witty quip. 

“Are you alright, Clarence?” Serpine asked as Eliza spun in the street in a long red coat Serpine had transfigured for her from one of the curtains inside the opera as a memento.

“Just a little tired.” Credence admitted. Serpine chuckled quietly.

“Yes I suppose this is your first holiday chaperoning for Elizabeth Berry.” Serpine whispered, leant close enough to Credence’s ear that it made him shiver with his hand touching the crook of Credence’s arm.

Credence had never had a man stand so close to him since…Since…

“What are you two whispering about?” Eliza asked from where she stood in the street, one hand on her hip.

Credence stepped away from Serpine, drawing a sharp breath as the ghost of his friend’s lips so near his neck drew him back to horrible, awful memories. Of warm hands taking his pain away and whispering everything he wanted to hear.

Suddenly the cool London streets were the frigid New York ones and Credence felt lonely, painfully lonely, searching for something he could never find. Desperate, so desperate to escape the clutches of his mother and her radical cult and wanting to be human, to be treated like someone important.

Credence held his breath and closed his eyes.

He felt himself shaking apart at the edges. Blurring, so frightened, so terrified. He just wanted to escape those hands.

Where was Newt? Why was he all alone?

“…arence, Clarence!”

Credence opened his eyes. He was standing with his back pressed to the wall of the opera house but down the side, the alley that ran along it where they’d broken in through an open window. Eliza’s frightened face was just in front of him, her warm hands pressed against his cheeks and Serpine was standing a little ways away, looking shocked and terrified.

“…What?” Credence looked around. 

“You disappeared!” Eliza gasped, “It was like you apparated, one moment you were in the street-the next you were here-but when you moved it was terribly dark, like a shadow, I thought someone had cursed you!”

Credence’s eyes widened and he glanced back at Serpine-who was gripping his wand with a worried and guilty expression on his face, he turned his back on Credence, looking back and forth outside of the alley-like he was guarding them.

“Are you alright? Did someone attack you?” Eliza whispered. 

“I’m-I’m alright.” Credence said. “No one attacked me-I’m sorry. This is-this has happened before.”

“…Oh thank goodness,” Eliza said, wrapping her red coat tighter around Credence’s shoulders and pulling him tightly into her arms.

Credence’s heart, which had been racing, terrified of Eliza’s reaction began to calm, tears coming to his eyes at her honest worry. He hugged her back, pressing his face into her soft hair and sucking in deep breaths to calm himself.

“…There are people in the street.” Serpine called suddenly, making Eliza and Credence break apart at the strange tone of his voice. “…Wizards-witches…I can see their wands.”

“…But this is a muggle area…” Eliza replied, crossing to Serpine’s side. Credence took a moment to recover himself before following her. He squeezed Serpine’s arm once, which made him glance at Credence and tried to convey an apology with just his eyes. 

Serpine seemed to understand it, nodding at Credence, before they both looked back out onto the street.

In the distance a large group of witches and wizards in long black robes with their wands drawn marched down the streets. Imprinted on their front in blazing, white was a sign that made Credence’s blood run cold.

A triangle, with a circle within and a line through the centre. The same symbol as the pendant Grindelwald had given Credence to call him to his side.

“We have to run.” Credence said.

“What?” Eliza asked.

“They’re Grindelwald supporters.” Serpine agreed and Eliza went white. “We have to move, now!”

“We’ll go back down the alley-to Diagon-“

“That’s too far,” Serpine hissed. “They could be heading that way!”

“We’ll go back to the apartment,” Credence whispered, “Newt is there. I have to get back to him.”

Eliza and Serpine shared a look before Eliza squeezed Credence’s shoulder, grounding him.

“We run for the apartment then.” She said certainly, a steely look upon her face, she glanced up at Serpine then, who nodded, “We don’t split up, we don’t lose one another. We’ll get Mr Scamander and then leave by floo!”

Credence nodded and then the three of them run down the alley, disappearing out of it just as the group of witches and wizards in dark robes passed their hiding place.


	30. Wet, Mud Sucking, Bastards

Newt arrived too late to join the students at their café gathering, arriving just after it had closed with no trace of the youths but had dedicated himself to making a good impression on Credence after his terrible manners earlier that day (and also figuring out a way to politely tell him that he may have accidentally outed his secret to the one woman who might bring him in).

He’d fixed dinner, bought real American orange juice from a muggle store (where he swapped an occamy egg for an entire crate-Credence would be ecstatic!) and had even transfigured two more chairs at the kitchen table out of old tree trunks from one of his habitats-in case Credence’s new friends wanted to join them.

Newt was feeling pretty confident about the whole thing. If he shuffled the settings around a few times and asked both Picket and Dougal’s opinion on the whole thing then that was just smart thinking. A good second opinion.

Newt also found the silverware the niffler had stolen from the ocean liner too and put it to good use much to the creature’s disdain.

So there Newt was, sitting at the kitchen table and drumming his fingers against it to the beat of the gramophone. Staring at the wall and listening intently for any sign of Credence’s return when there was a scream from the street and the sound of windows shattering.

Newt was out of his chair in seconds, wand drawn, he pushed up the kitchen window and stared out. Down the street the muggle café’s windows had been broken and a group of people with their wands drawn were shattering every window in the building, one at a time. 

All the breath went out of Newt when he recognised the symbol on the front of their robes.

“Oh no.” Newt whispered.

He leapt from where he was at the window, running over and pulling on his coat, determined to help in any way he could with his hand on the door knob when it was pulled open from the other side by Credence, red face and out of breath.

They stared at one another before Credence stepped forward and crushed Newt in a hug.

“Oh thank goodness!” Eliza cried.

“Get in! Get in!” Serpine hissed.

Newt disentangled himself from Credence and ushered the students inside, closing the door and locking it behind them. 

“Are you all alright?” Newt asked and Credence nodded, wide eyed and silent. Serpine stood at his side, equally as out of breath and then extended his hand, pale and terrified as he quickly muttered.

“Serpine Fiddleson, a pleasure to meet you,” The boy exhaled in one breath.

Newt blinked and then took his hand, shaking it. 

“Oh my gosh, they’re destroying the café!” Eliza whispered, from where she was peering out the window.

“Eliza-get away from the window-“ Serpine hissed running toward her just as a spell was thrown against it, shattering it and throwing her backward.

Serpine caught her and she gasped, tiny shards of glass like sand in her hair and on her shoulders. Larger pieces cutting her cheeks and hands.

“Wet, mud sucking, bastards!” She cursed.

Newt dropped to her side where Serpine clung to her, sheet white and unable to speak. 

“Clarence-go get my case” Newt asked, taking out his wand and using it to banish the glass from Eliza while Serpine just watched on in stunned silence. Newt turned and found Credence similarly shocked, Newt spoke a little more sternly, “My case Clarence-now please!”

Credence blinked and then nodded earnestly, running from the room. All around them the windows in their apartment were shattering into tiny shards. Newt cast a spell around them, shielding them from the worst of it.

“Eliza, are you alright?” Newt asked seriously.

“Perfectly wonderful, Mr Scamander,” Eliza whispered, making Serpine laugh a little and shaking him out of his stunned expression. “Now let’s get the heck out of here before they blast us all to kingdom come!”

“An excellent idea.” Newt said.

Credence returned with the case and Newt squeezed his arm, thanking him. 

“Now Cre-Clarence,” Newt quickly amended, “If you wouldn’t mind showing your friends our alternative lodgings-“

“I can’t-what about you?” Credence asked, eyes wide and bits of glass in his hair from his run back from their room.

“I’ll be alright,” Newt said certainly. Behind him at the stove there was a deathly rattle, making Eliza’s eyes go wide as a horrible puff of green smoke bellowed from within it.

“They’re trying to block us in-“ Serpine whispered, terrified, “They’re going to blow us away-“

Newt leaned forward, taking Credence by the shoulder and centring him as best he could, whispering just over the worried voices of the young man’s friends. Credence focused back on Newt, eyes wide and stressed, “You need to take your friends with you into the case. I am the only who can apparate. I will take you all with me to the ministry. But you must be inside the case.”

Credence breathed in and out, torn, just as a horrible, green flash flew through a window above their heads.

“Credence, please.” Newt whispered.

Credence finally nodded, sliding back as Newt opened the case.

“Don’t be afraid,” Newt said to all of them and then touched the lip of the case to where Serpine and Eliza were sat together.

Serpine was sucked in first, followed by Eliza’s wide eyed face. Credence quickly followed after them, looking back up at Newt once with worried eyes.

“…I’m sorry about how I acted last night.” Newt said over the shattering of plates and cabinets in the kitchen and the sound of the entire apartment being torn apart behind him. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Likewise.” Credence replied, before the lid shut closed over his head.


	31. Beware the Brave

Newt had seen a lot in the war. He’d used his minor healing powers to treat splinched soldiers and blown apart muggles. Stabilised people so burnt from dragon fire they were impossible to recognise.

So when Newt straightened, case in hand, and apparated just before a spell caused the stove to light, singing the back of his neck as the apartment burst into flame he felt oddly calm.

He reappeared in the street behind the apartment, sliding into the shadows. The smell of his own burning clothes in his nostrils and the case gripped so tightly it ached. He took a few moments to collect himself and then stepped out into the street, crossing it and apparating from there to a block ahead-in the muggle side of town.

The streets were deathly silent except for the occasional ambulant siren and the whir or a fire brigade far away.

Newt felt the threat before he saw it. Using his wand to deflect a spell that almost hit him in the back. The wizard who had cast it fired another right after the first and Newt ran, apparating out of the man’s line of fire and heading for the ministry through the muggle back roads.

Unfortunately Grindelwald’s supporters seemed to have a sick purpose in the muggle-centric side of London because Newt almost ran into an entire group of them where they were busy breaking down the door of some poor muggle’s home. 

Unable to bear the thought of just walking by Newt hexed a sign hanging just above the door and it dropped at one side, swinging into the fanatics and knocking several of them off their feet.

He apparated again before they could fire a spell at him and was barely missed by an automobile where’d he’d reappeared in the middle of a road. Newt stumbled, clipped by its mirror and almost splinched himself apparating safely to the side walk.

Newt huffed painfully, memories of his broken arm spiking as he’d been clipped on the same arm he’d broken in Tibet. He forced himself to stand upright and clutched his case and wand tighter. The ministry was close enough almost to see. He just had to make the last stretch.

Exhausted from the constant apparitions Newt stretched himself one more time, appearing in the street the Ministry was connected to.

Newt ducked just in time to avoid a spell that whistled over his head, smashing into one of Grindelwald’s army and throwing them into a car window.

Newt looked up and found himself in the middle of a battlefield.

There were a line of Aurors in front of the ministry, directly opposite them, hidden behind cars and in building windows were Grindelwald’s followers, firing hexes and unforgivable curses at the Aurors and maintaining a line of their own.

Newt watched in terror as other witches and wizards with the same idea as his apparated just behind the Aurors, running inside and past a magical barrier put in place by the ministry. One of the Aurors levitated an automobile just behind Newt, dropping it on a wizard who had been creeping up on him. 

“Get behind the line!” One of the female Aurors yelled at him and Newt staggered to his feet, running for the line of witches and wizards and ducking as one of Grindelwald’s army tackled the witch that had yelled at him, apparating away with her where she’d been shielding one of her friends.

Newt kept his head down and ran for the line, stumbling over the place where the woman had been and almost falling head first into another Auror.

This one, however, was far more familiar.

“…Newt?” Tina Goldstein cried, face flustered and flecked with dirt and sweat. Hair a mess where it hung short around her shoulders.

“-Tina!” Newt stuttered in reply, “That was quick-“

Tina grabbed Newt and pulled him down before he could be hit in the back with a curse. 

“Not the time,” Tina said, “You have to get inside! It’s not safe-“

“I want to help-“ Newt said.

“No!” Tina said firmly, “Let us deal with this-there are people inside that need help-get in there!”

Newt swallowed and then nodded, picking up his case firmly and running up the steps of the ministry and into its doors.

The first familiar face Newt saw as he ran inside was Queenie, still in her travelling jacket, perfectly curled blonde hair spinning this way and that as she hurried Ministry workers and their families inside. Guiding them to where they wanted to go without even having to ask.

She spun when Newt’s eyes settled on her, eyes wide. Even in the mayhem, she smiled kindly at him.

“Newton!” She cried and Newt ran to her side, they embraced quickly before Queenie held him at arm’s length.

“I need a private place,” Newt said.

“Of course.” Queenie said, glancing down at his case and then taking his arm, “Come with me.”

Queenie took Newt to an abandoned office on the first floor, once inside Newt placed the case down on a table and opened the lid. 

“Serpine, Elizabeth, if you wouldn’t mind coming out now-we’re at the Ministry.”

Newt stood back as the two students he’d called clambered one after the other out of the case. Looking around with wide eyes.

“How did we…?” Eliza looked around, “I can’t believe it.”

“There’s a bin over there, honey.” Queenie said to Serpine who took a few steps over to a waste paper basket and then threw up inside.

Eliza turned to Queenie then, eyes wide, she stuttered for the first time Newt had ever seen her do so and Queenie tilted her head at her before smiling.

“It’s alright, Mr Scamander and I met in New York.” Queenie said as Eliza closed her mouth, “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“…My mother.” Eliza said. “She’s a muggle-I-I have to get back to her.”

“I don’t think that’s wise-“ Newt began but Queenie just stepped forward, taking Eliza’s hand and patting it softly.

“She lives just outside of London, doesn’t she?” Queenie asked and Eliza nodded, seemingly spell bound into silence by Queenie. Behind her, Serpine straightened, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“I’ll go with her.” Serpine said certainly, “My family are purebloods-there’s no way they would have been targeted.”

Eliza turned her gaze on Serpine, eyes going a little watery. While Newt bit his tongue, trusting Queenie’s judgement. 

“…Thank you.” She said and took his hand where he offered it to her, then back at Newt, sucking in a deep, steely breath. “And thank you, Mr Scamander, I don’t know what we would have done without you. I’m sure it was a walk in the park for someone so brave.”

Newt smiled at the girl, who reached out with her free hand to squeeze his before allowing Queenie to lead her and Serpine (who murmured his thanks on the way past as well) from the room to where the great large floo chimneys of the Ministry waited outside.

Newt stood in front of his open case, still humming from the thrill of such a narrow escape before he walked over to the lid of it and bent toward it, whispering inside.

“I’ll call for you, Credence.” He said, before locking the lid and walking out of the room.


	32. The Whole Story

Newt did his best to help in the hours that followed. The Ministry, especially it’s Aurors, were scattered. There were hundreds of attacks all over London and it became clear that the supporters at the Ministry were only there to fluster and divide forces. 

A real plan had been laid down and played out-though after the duelling ceased and the terrified flow of people both arriving and leaving the Ministry slowed no one seemed able to come up with a straight answer as to what it was.

Newt worked with the healers mostly, helping splinched and frightened witches and wizards, tending to minor injuries and moving very badly injured people from the Ministry to St Mungos once the fire fight had died down.

The sun was rising by the time Newt returned with Tina and Queenie to the small office they’d been allotted. Tina had been all over London, apprehending Grindelwald’s supporters and dragging them back to the Ministry for questioning. But there were so few captured-because as quickly as they had appeared they had disappeared. Like smoke slipping from their fingers.

They could be anyone, anywhere once their cloaks were removed which made them even more dangerous.

Tina was the last one into the office, her short dark hair messy and face coated with dirt and soot from her travels all around London. She closed the door to the office behind them and locked it before pressing her back to it and staring at Newt where he was refusing to meet her eye. Standing in front of his case where it sat on the desk with his back to her.

Queenie stared between them, fidgeting until she finally broke the silence.

“You should, Teeny,” She whispered.

Newt glanced over his shoulder at her and then felt Tina’s arms wrap around him from the back, squeezing him tightly. He stood completely still for a few seconds before he sighed shortly and held her arms over his chest, closing his eyes and feeling a small amount of the stress and panic of the last few hours fall away as he leant back into her embrace.

Beside them, Queenie smiled brightly, beaming at them both when Tina finally stepped back, digging her hands into her pockets and clearing her throat while Newt turned half way, a little red in the face. Both hands now pressed protectively on top of his case again.

“…I want to see him.” Tina finally said.

“Let me talk to him first,” Newt said.

Tina stared at the side of Newt’s face, hard and then nodded.

Newt nodded back at her and then unlocked the case, opening the lid and then climbing inside. He closed it after him and dropped down to the floor below.

Inside the case everything was eerily quiet.

Newt looked around, drawing his wand and carefully took a few steps deeper into the shack. He peered around a corner and then spun when Credence stepped out from behind a shelf, wand drawn and face serious and deadly.

Newt threw his hands into the air and Credence dropped the tip of his once he recognised him.

“You’re alright-“ 

“Yes but-“

“Eliza and Serpine?” Credence cut in, stepping into Newt’s space, eyes wide and words racing.

“Fine, at home-“

“The Ministry? Grindelwald?” Credence whispered. Then reached out and touched a smear of someone else’s blood on Newt’s sleeve.

“Credence.” Newt said, trying to capture his attention. “There’s something you need to know.”

Credence looked up at Newt, wide dark eyes full of concern.

\---

Tina and Queenie stood just in front of the door when the cases’ lid opened five minutes later. Newt stepped out first, climbing down on a chair the sisters had placed by the desk to make it easier for him. He stuck his hands into his pockets, eyes cast down at the floor as first pale hands then a thick head of hair belonging to a young man in a grey jacket began to pull himself free from the case.

Tina’s eyes went wide as Credence Barebone looked up at her. Recognition sparking in those older, dark eyes.

“Credence.” Tina said and Queenie covered her mouth. “…It really is you.”

Credence nodded, standing beside Newt who unconsciously placed a foot half in front of the boy, shielding him.

“…How can this be?” Tina asked. “How did you survive?”

Newt kept his eyes down on the floor while Credence just stared at Tina, wide eyed and intense. 

Queenie spoke up then, looking between the two parties, slowly dropping her hand from her mouth.

“…They don’t know Tina.” Queenie whispered, “Either of them…”

Credence’s gaze snapped to Queenie then and he swallowed. She smiled soothingly at him and nodded.

“It’s alright, honey,” She whispered to him, “I’m a friend.”

Credence looked down at the floor and Tina took a step toward them, causing Newt to put a hand up between Tina and Credence-where Credence had instinctively reached for his wand.

“Alright, let’s all slow down a little.” Newt said. “Tina, you know Credence. Credence, this is Queenie, Tina’s sister from New York.”

Queenie smiled at Credence and he stared back, breathing a little quickly. 

“…We’re not here to hurt you, Credence.” Tina said, holding her hands up in front of herself. “You know me, you know I wouldn’t.”

Credence didn’t break his gaze from Tina, but dropped his hand from where his wand was tucked into his over coat. 

“…I just want to ask you both some questions…” Tina said calmly. “And I want you to answer them as clearly as you can, ok?”

Credence nodded slowly. 

“…Would you like to sit down?” Tina offered, gesturing at one of two chairs in the room. One chair beside Credence and one by the door near Queenie.

Credence glanced at Newt, who nodded minutely and then sat down. Tina smiled and Queenie quietly dragged the chair from near the door beside Tina so Tina could sit opposite Credence.

Newt sat on the desk beside the boy while Queenie stood behind her sister.

“…Tell me what happened after New York.” Tina asked.

Credence looked up at Newt, who placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, nodding at him before Credence turned back to Tina and began a retelling of the entire story…


	33. Brighter In The Morning

“…Wow.” Queenie said and Credence looked up at her, tiredly, after finishing his story where they now stood. “…Congratulations on your OWL’s, Credence.”

Credence stared at her for a few more seconds. He hadn’t mentioned passing his OWL’s at all during his story.

“I can’t believe it.” Tina breathed.

“It’s all true.” Newt said with conviction. Credence was leant against the side of his leg tiredly. 

“…You kept this all to yourself-for over a year?” Tina asked and Newt swallowed. Nodding and dropping her gaze. 

“…He was being careful, Tina.” Queenie said, “You didn’t want us involved, did you?”

“…Please,” Newt said, meeting Queenies eye. Queenie looked down, stepping backward uncomfortably but Tina took her arm, shaking her head.

“No, you don’t get to blame her for this!” Tina said indignantly. “Queenie kept your secret for almost 6 months! 6 months Newt! Because she was sure you’d find a way to tell me yourself!” Newt wrung his hands guiltily while Credence glanced at him sympathetically, “How could you lie to me about something so important?”

“I thought it would be too dangerous, for everyone.” Newt said, meeting her eye sadly. “I didn’t mean to upset you or put either of you in an uncomfortable position...”

Tina let out a breath, mouth hanging open and eyes a little shiny with frustration.

An awkward silence followed.

“…Will you arrest me?” Credence asked suddenly, staring up at Tina where she stood. Her eyes snapping from Newt’s sorry face to Credence’s.

Tina’s brows drew up sadly as she looked at Credence and he looked down at his hands, squeezing them into fists to stop them from trembling.

“It’s alright,” Credence said, “I’ve been waiting for it.”

“I’ll make sure you receive a fair trial.” Tina promised and Newt sat up straighter, eyes wide, “After this attack is cleaned up, you can come back with me to New York...”

“What? No!” Newt said. Tina and Queenie both turned to look at him where he had jumped to his feet, even Credence was staring at him funnily, eyes wide. “He’ll be executed.”

“Newt-no-“ Tina started, “Things aren’t like they were before, it won’t be like how it was with us-“

“No.” Newt said, shaking his head and going red in the face, “No, I refuse to accept that.”

Everyone in the room stared at Newt where he stood with his fists balled at his sides and his shoulders set. Unable to meet anyone’s eye.

“If our friendship means anything to you, Miss Goldstein,” Newt whispered, “You’ll allow me this one deviation from the law.”

“Newt-it’s too big. His crimes are too serious and if Grindelwald were to capture him-“ Tina argued.

“Macusa thinks he’s dead.” Newt said, looking up, “They have no way of discovering him here-or any motivation to investigate an alleged reappearance.”

“Newton-“ Queenie began but stopped when Newt met her eye.

“…Read my mind,” Newt said, “You know I can’t let him go back with you.”

Queenie stared sadly at Newt and then glanced down at Credence where he sat, half hidden behind Newt’s frame, looking between them all arguing over his fate.

“…I think we should all go to bed.” Queenie finally said. “It’s been a long night and none of us are thinking straight.”

Tina dropped her gaze from Newt and looked up when her sister turned to her, taking her arm and smiling empathically.

Tina glanced over at where Newt was still standing, slightly out of breath from how seriously he’d opposed his friend’s decision and then nodded.

“…Alright.” Tina agreed. “We’ll sleep on it.” 

Queenie smiled at her and the sisters bid Credence and Newt an awkward goodnight before closing the door on their way out. The lock clicking ominously behind them as they went.

Newt let out a breath once they had left and fell back against the desk behind him, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly while Credence just stared after them. 

“…Do you still have that bottle of fire-whiskey?” Credence asked.

Newt sniffed, wiping his sleeve over his eyes and nodding.

“…Shall we get reacquainted?” Credence suggested.

Newt smiled a wet, worried smile and then followed Credence back into the case.

\---

Newt wasn’t a big drinker, it didn’t take a lot to get him drunk and Credence knew that. Newt was so lightweight it made Credence look like an Olympic swimmer in comparison. 

So, when the bottle began to dwindle and Newt’s eyes began to slip closed where he was lying on the grass staring up at the artificial stars by the mooncalves enclosure Credence was the one who guided him up onto his feet and helped him across the familiar terrain to the cabin at the cases’ centre.

Credence was the one who swept Newt’s blankets back from his nest of a cot and undid his shoe laces while Newt insisted he was fussing before falling asleep seconds later, one shoe on-one shoe off.

Credence placed a glass of water by Newt’s bed, gathered up some supplies and put them in a duffle, then quietly made his way over to where the bowtruckles were all sleeping.

“Picket,” Credence whispered, gently brushing a finger against the tiny creature which opened his small, beady, eyes to stare at Credence sleepily. “May I ask a favour of you?”

Credence took his hat, placing it on his head, checked to make sure Picket was secure on his shoulder and then began to climb up the stairs-out of the case-when a small hand grabbed him by his ankle.

Credence turned to find Dougal clinging to his leg, pulling him back.

“…Dougal,” Credence whispered, trying to shake his leg free without hurting the beast, “Please let me go.”

Dougal’s blue eyes flashed and the creature tightened his grip on Credence’s trousers.

“…I know,” Credence whispered, “I know it’s stupid-but I have to go. I can’t let Newt stick his neck out for me anymore than he already has...”

Dougal wouldn’t let go and Credence dropped back down the ladder, kneeling beside the furry creature and stroking the fur around his face gently.

“We’ll meet again.” He whispered. “I promise.”

Dougal’s big eyes opened and stared at Credence, one of his small hands coming out to touch the boy’s face. 

Credence climbed out of the case without looking back, fighting down the feeling that he was doing something terribly, dreadfully, stupid.


	34. Revelations

Newt awoke a few hours later with a very bad headache. He pushed himself up, red around the eyes and sore from his activities the day before. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked around groggily wondering if Credence had left him any orange juice. 

The first thing that struck Newt was the Credence was not asleep in his bed. The second was that Dougal was lying there instead-a habit he had only began after Credence’s first farewell when leaving for Hogwarts.

A horrible notion of dread overcame Newt as he shot to his feet, stumbling in his socks and flew from the cabin calling Credence’s name. He looked everywhere and then stopped and quickly back pedalled when he noticed Picket was missing from the bowtruckle tree.

“Oh no.” Newt whispered and quickly ran back to the cabin pulling on his clothes from the night before, pocketing his wand and hopping into his shoes as he ran for the ladder.

\---

By the time Newt was half way free of the case Tina and Queenie had burst in through the open doorway.

“Where is he?” Tina cried.

“I don’t know,” Newt replied.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Tina asked. 

Newt looked up at them with a pained, headachy expression and Queenie nodded at him sympathetically.

“He planned this,” Newt said, stepping bodily out of the case and locking it behind him. “He’s taken his things, he’s escaping properly.”

“Well he couldn’t have chosen a worst time!” Tina said, pacing, “The Aurors have just finished interrogating the members of Grindelwald’s army we took in last night. That attack? That whole spectacle in front of the Ministry? It was just a cover up for his real agenda.”

“Which was?” Newt asked, looking between the two sisters.

“To find the obscurus.” Queenie whispered.

“He knows Newt,” Tina murmured as the colour drained from Newt’s face, “He’s been having visions again. He attacked any home that received there OWL results yesterday in London in the hopes of finding the boy he saw in them…”

Newt stared at the two women and picked up his case, squaring his shoulders.

“Then we have to find him first.” Newt said. “He can’t have gone far-he can’t apparate.”

“There’s an entire national floo network in the hall way.” Tina said, “He could be on a boat back to New York for all we know.”

“…No.” Queenie said, “He wouldn’t have gone back to New York…” 

“Then where?” Tina asked.

“…He’d go where any of us would go.” Queenie said quietly, “To find his friends.”


	35. Family Reunions and Other Horrors

Credence gripped his wand tightly as he stepped out of the chimney at Eliza’s mother’s small apartment just outside of London. It was grey with early morning light within and the second Credence stepped out he had the intense feeling that something was wrong.

Some of the furniture in the room had been thrown aside and her windows were shattered, as they had been at Credence’s own apartment. Credence took a few steps forward with his wand drawn into the living room when he heard a shrill voice call out to him.

“Clarence! Get down!” 

Credence dropped as a curse flew over his head. He slid behind an over turned table as a tall woman with brown, curled hair draping over her shoulders fired another spell wordlessly in his direction.

He peeked around the side and could see Eliza hidden behind a door way, hair all messy and face pinched with exhaustion. Behind her in the room, lying on a bed, was the prone form of an unconscious woman.

“A gentleman caller at this hour? Why am I not surprised, Mudblood?” The witch in the living room called out to Eliza who turned from Credence and held her wand to her chest tightly.

“Leave right now before the rest of the Ministry gets here, you-you terrorist!” Eliza called back, her voice wavering only a little. 

The witch laughed while Credence slid to the other side of the table, trying to get an angle on her. The witch caught his intention and hit the table with another spell, splintering the wood by his side.

“Not until I’ve finished what I’ve started, give it up and I’ll go easy on your little boy friend.” The witch called. She threw another spell at Eliza, who had stepped into the hall way and cried ‘expelliarmus’ too late-the stranger’s spell clipped Eliza and knocked her back against the wall behind her.

Credence threw himself around the corner and cried ‘Stupify’ which the unknown witch quickly deflected. Firing back her own spell with a cackle that threw Credence onto his back. 

Unbearable pain jolted through every inch of Credence, like fire, or lightening, burning him up from his core to the tips of his fingers and making him jerk and twitch.

He could barely breathe when just as quickly as the pain set on it was gone and all he could do was lie on his back, gasping for air.

The witch from the other side of the room stalked toward him, wand drawn and pointed at his chest. She flicked her wand and before Credence could stop it his wand went flying from his grasp. 

Credence lay on his back, staring up at this woman in her dark clothes and long curls, completely defenceless as she smiled down at him.

“Another one of those Hogwarts brats, no doubt about it.” She said with a voice like honey, “They don’t teach you any real magic at that school, do they boy? Not anything useful anyway.”

As if to demonstrate her point her wand glowed and Credence felt agony burst from his core again, exploding into every fibre of his being and making him jerk and his back arch. 

The woman’s laughter was all he could hear before there was a loud BANG which sounded nothing like magic and the woman cried out.

Credence twisted onto his side in time to see Eliza holding a revolver in one hand and her wand in the other while the witch standing over him staggered, holding her arm where it had been grazed with a bullet.

“Mudblood filth!” The witch screamed and Eliza was thrown into the ceiling by the force of the witches curse, then dropped to the floor.

Credence watched in horror as Eliza didn’t move.

“-Liza-“ Credence gasped as the witch stalked over to her and then toed her over with her boot. Eliza gasped, clutching her stomach as the witch disarmed her of her wand and gun.

“You’ll wish you hadn’t done that soon, my dear.” The witch spat, pointing her wand down at her, “I was going to make it quick. But now I feel like that end is too good for a dirty, muddy rat like you.” 

Eliza, barely able to catch her breath, skin pale and hair about her face smiled through a split lip. 

“Go to hell.” She whispered.

Credence’s eyes went wide as the witch pointed her wand with purpose. Before she could throw her spell though there was a breath of wind from the fire place and Serpine appeared.

The witch spun, wand at the ready, but stopped when Serpine looked up at her. His eyes wide with fear. She seemed to recognise him and chuckled, taking a few steps back from Eliza and relaxing a little.

“Oh it’s just you, little Serpent.” The witch said. “I was worried for a moment that this little mud blood wench hadn’t been lying about the cavalry after all.”

Serpine looked down at Credence, who was fighting his way onto his hands and knees, feeling like he was going to throw up in the after math of the spell. Credence stared up at Serpine, pleading with him with his eyes while Serpine just returned his gaze to the witch at the centre of the room.

“Ramona,” Serpine said, “What is going on, where are my parents?”

“…Well they’re with Him of course.” The witch, Ramona said. “My dear brother was the first at his side when the call went out…We were waiting for you, actually. Dearest Anka was terribly concerned when we couldn’t find you but I told her we had to go on.”

“…I was in London.” Serpine said. “They attacked my friends.”

“…Your friends?” Ramona asked, chuckling without any humour, “You mean, who? Your weird little friends from that carnival of a school?”

Serpine looked down at where Eliza was still lying, breathing raggedly and staring up at Serpine with wide, betrayed, eyes.

The witch followed Serpine’s gaze and then turned back to him, realisation dawning on her face as the young Slytherin boy looked back up at her.

“…Oh no, Serpine.” She said, smiling wickedly, “You haven’t fallen in with-this kind-have you?”

Serpine’s hand twitched over where his wand was sticking out of his pocket. He lifted his chin up, betraying nothing at all.

“What do you want with them?” Serpine asked. “Grindelwald’s forces have fallen back, why are you still here?” 

Ramona tutted, wand pointed down at where Eliza still lay, barely able to move. On the floor between them Credence tried to subtly inch toward Eliza while the two talked.

“Just cleaning up,” Ramona said, “Or I was-until I was interrupted.”

Credence fell to the floor again as Ramona caught him moving and cursed him again, dropping onto his side and gasping in air. But this time the pain made something dark and primitive begin to smoke and spoil in Credence and he cried out, covering his face where his nose began to bleed.

“Stop!” Eliza screamed, tears pouring down her dirty cheeks, “Stop it you’re killing him!”

“No,” Ramona said, “Not yet I’m not.”

“Ramona-stop it!” Serpine said, stepping forward.

Ramona turned her wand on the standing boy and he held his hands out by his sides, palms up.

“It’s over Ramona.” Serpine whispered, “There’s no need for unnecessary killing.”

“…You were always a weak, pathetic little boy, Serpine.” Ramona murmured, making Serpine’s face go hard and his breath come quicker, “I told my brother that the day you were born, endlessly crying. If only you’d inherited your father’s fortitude-you might have outgrown it.”

Credence clenched his fists at his side where he lay, desperately trying to keep himself together where he began to blur at the edges. Anger and terror mixing together inside of him in a way it hadn’t in almost a year. Worse than the opera, worse than with Newt in the case.

Beside him Eliza reached out to Credence, grabbing his shirt sleeve and whispering to him weakly. “Clarence?”

“Ramona,” Serpine hissed, “This isn’t the way it should be. Please, come with me to find my parents.”

“I can’t.” Ramona said, “Like I told you, I’m not done yet. This one is still breathing.” 

With that Ramona turned her wand on Eliza one last time, drawing it back and crying “Avada-“

“No!” Serpine cried, lunging forward and grabbing Ramona’s arm, knocking her wand to the side before she could complete the spell.

Eliza rolled out of the way, away from Credence just as Credence rose to his feet, rising as if drawn up on strings, weightless.

Serpine was still wrestling with Ramona as Credence’s eyes fell closed and the pair of magical folk only turned around when there was a sound like all the air leaving a room.

Ramona turned first, catching a glimpse of Credence disappearing into a cloud of thick, black, corporeal smoke.

“It couldn’t be-“ She whispered, before she went wide eyed and apparated from the spot, taking Serpine with her as the smoke struck forward with a crack-surging after her and following her magical path through a shattered window and onto the street.

Eliza clutched her hands over her ears as the bricks and wall near the window were broken apart by the obscurus’ path out of her mother’s apartment. Ramona reappeared on the street, still grappling with Serpine where she had landed on a balcony a little way down the road.

Serpine staggered, but didn’t release the witch as she tried to free her wand hand, slapping him across the face and apparating again when the obscurus struck out for her, surging forward like a wave and completely decimating the balcony where the struggling pair had just been standing.

Ramona apparated again and again, sometimes within muggle buildings and shops and the obscurus followed destroying everything in its path to try and envelop her-while Serpine clung to her for dear life, attempting to free his wand hand and keep her entangled at the same time.

Ramona finally apparated onto an empty street in front of a large abandoned shoe factory, she stumbled and threw Serpine away from her, drawing her wand and firing a spell into the core of the obscurus where it coursed like a wave over the top of a building behind them. The spell flew through the middle of the cloud, which parted and reunited, just missing Ramona as she leapt behind an automobile.

Serpine dragged himself to his feet and shouted “Expelliarmus” as Ramona drew her wand back to cast another killing curse. Her wand flew back into his free hand.

Ramona turned her eyes wide and murderous and then ran forward-as if to apparate.

Unprepared Serpine jumped forward the last few steps and caught the end of her sleeve, disappearing with her inside of the Shoe Factory.

The obscurus followed them, crashing through a window and pouring into the building like a waterfall. It crashed through wall, after wall, more than there seemed to be on the outside before it passed through some kind of white, smokey, shield between the inner most walls and the obscurus dropped into a large room at the factories middle.

Serpine dropped from mid-air onto the floor, crashing on his stomach and rolling onto his back while Ramona reappeared a few feet ahead of him, stumbling forward.

The obscurus hit the ground behind Serpine, it bubbled and popped, like a liquid reaching boiling temperature, before Credence’s form began to crawl from its heaving core. Gasping like a drowning man.

Ramona turned, grinning, as Credence dragged himself across the floor toward her, eyes red and flashing, smoke billowing in a trail behind him. He attempted to stand, to call his obscurus back to him, but dropped to his knees again, struggling to breath.

“Like that little spell, Mr Big Bad Obscurial?” Ramona asked, “I doubt you’ve ever felt anything like it.”

Credence fell to his hands and knees, spitting up black liquid onto the floor while beside him Serpine was choking in thick, wet, breaths. 

Credence turned to his friend and saw in revulsion and horror that he’d been splinched, a giant, gaping wound now extended from Serpine’s shoulder to his hip. As if a whole portion of his chest had been removed and left behind.

Serpine stared at Credence, reaching for him with trembling hands and stammering, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Over and over.

Credence attempted to reach him but was kicked over by Ramona onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, in too much pain to move, while Ramona looked down at Serpine without pity.

“You should have let go, little Serpi.” Ramona said, leaning over and taking her wand back from where it was still clutched in Serpine’s other hand. 

Serpine reached out to her, begging for help, but she just looked away as others began to filter into the room on a balcony above them within the same room. 

Credence was still coughing on black liquid when Ramona picked him up by his shirt collar and forced him onto his knees in front of the crowd of people forming, calling out to them from below.

“I found him!” She yelled, “I found the obscurus you were looking for! He was hiding in a nest of rats-just like you described it!”

Credence only just had the strength to look upwards and lock eyes with the blonde man standing at the head of the people in black all around him, looking down at Credence with familiar, desolate, eyes.

“Very good Ramona,” Grindelwald called back. “Bring the boy to me.”

Credence shook his head trying to escape, terrified as Ramona pulled him to his feet, beside him he heard a woman scream and run out onto the floor. 

“Is that Serpine?” She screamed, “Ramona-what did you do to my son?”

“He tried to stop me,” Ramona replied, Credence watched as the two women faced one another. The one with blonde, honey coloured hair like Serpine’s standing just a few feet from where Serpine was still gagging, mortally injured, on the ground. “He betrayed the cause, turned on his own flesh and blood. He’s a traitor.”

“He’s my SON.” The woman spat, “Your nephew!”

“He should be made an example of.” Ramona said curtly, her eyes turning up to where Grindelwald and the rest of his followers stood over them.

Credence shook his head as he looked up at Grindelwald. The leader stared down at the scene below and then nodded once, a gesture which Ramona returned, drawing her wand as two men in black appeared and took Credence from her, holding him up as his legs were too weak to keep him upright.

Credence watched, too crushed by the effects of the anti-obscurus spell to do more than open his eyes wide in fear as Ramona aimed her wand at where his friend was lying on the ground.

“Get away from him, you creature!” The woman with blonde hair cried, flicking her wand so quickly Credence almost missed it.

Ramona staggered backward, grabbing at her side where a spell had hit her, blood spurting from under her hand. The woman, Serpine’s mother, grabbed her son before any of Grindelwald’s follower’s spells could hit her. Disappearing with him with a final crack.

Credence closed his eyes, slumping into the men carrying him and drifted into blackness as the weight of the anti-obscurial spell pushed him under.


	36. The Fiddlesons

“I remember the girl’s address,” Queenie said as Newt and Tina followed behind her toward the floo network in the main hall of the Ministry of magic. Other workers bustled around them, as worn out and tired as they were. Everywhere protective spells were being reinforced and Aurors from a special team in America specifically sent to deal with the Grindelwald threat were interviewing anyone they thought might know something. They let Tina and her friends pass without fuss as Queenie continued, “With any luck-they’ll still be there.”

“Should I tell the other Aurors?” Tina asked as she passed by another member of her team.

“No,” Newt whispered, eyes down cast and case in hand, “Not until we’re sure they’re safe, a team of Aurors will just make Credence run.”

Or worse. The three all thought at the same time.

Just as they were about to step up to a free floo heath Newt was tapped on the arm by a young woman in a hospital uniform. He turned, eyes wide and lip a thin line as she spoke.

“Are you Newton Scamander?” 

The sisters behind Newt looked at each gravely when Newt stammered in the affirmative.

“There’s a young gentleman at St Mungos asking after you,” The woman said, “He’s in quite a bad way, if you’re not in a terrible rush I think he’d like to see you as soon as possible.”

“What is his name?” Newt asked, pale faced, while the women behind him held their breath.

“Serpine Fiddleson.” The nurse replied.

\---

The three travelled by floo with the nurse to St Mungos which was packed to the rafters with injured magical people after the attacks in London. A sea of injured students and their family members bustled in and out of rooms while exhausted doctors and nurses trotted by in various states.

Newt, Tina and Queenie stayed glued to the trail of the nurse as she weaved in expertly between the chaos finally delivering to them the door outside of a private room.

“He’s just inside.” She said, “His parents are with him.”

“His parents?” Newt asked, having never met them before and Serpine only the once.

“Oh yes,” She said, “Mr and Mrs Fiddleson. They brought him in early this morning, do prepare yourself, it was a pretty nasty splinching accident.”

“…Thank you.” Newt said and the nurse nodded at him before disappearing. Newt turned to the two women.

“I’ll just be a moment.” Newt promised.

“See if he knows anything about our friend’s whereabouts,” Tina murmured. “We’ll be right outside.” Queenie nodded, looking distracted and flustered amongst all the sick and injured people. Tina wrapped an arm around her sister as Newt opened the door to the private room and stepped inside.

Newt closed the door behind him just as Serpine’s parents turned, looking as if they had just split apart after a nasty argument. The man, Mr Fiddleson, stood in front of his wife and son, frowning darkly with his wand drawn.

“Who are you?” He asked, with a thick Scandinavian accent. 

“Newton Scamander, at your service.” Newt replied, holding out his free hand (his other one still holding his case).

Mr Fiddleson looked down at Newt’s hand, then back up at his face without taking it. By her son’s bed, Mrs Fiddleson rose to her feet.

“Oh let him through Savan,” The woman spat. Making Mr Fiddleson drop his gaze. “You were no good back in that factory! Don’t pretend you wish to protect him now!”

Mr Fiddleson glared up at Newt before stepping back out of his way. Newt, feeling a little awkward and like he was missing something important, crossed over to where Serpine was laying in his bed, bandaged from shoulder to hip.

Serpine’s eyes were closed, but opened when Newt drew nearer. He was clearly in a lot of pain, but nodded at Newt all the same.

“Forgive my husband’s rudeness,” Mrs Fiddleson said, sending a mean glare at where he stood behind Newt, watching darkly. “It has been a long and gruelling morning. My name is Anka Fiddleson and I know you saved my son once before so when he asked for you I knew you could be trusted.”

“I’m sorry we had to meet in such circumstances,” Newt said and took her hand gently where she offered it. “What happened?”

“Grindelwald.” Serpine whispered. He reached a hand out to Newt, taking his sleeve and looking at him with pained, distant eyes, “He has Clarence.”

Newt’s eyes went wide and he paled while Mrs Fiddleson kept talking.

“That boy, Clarence, he is an obscurial, the last of his kind on this side of the world. Grindelwald was bent on his capture. He tricked the boy and my son into his trap.” Mrs Fiddleson said, stroking Serpine’s hair where his eyes were slowly falling closed again. She looked up at Newt, where her gaze went from soft and caring to eyes like liquid flame, vengeful and dangerous. “He wanted to make an example of my Serpine-for being loyal to his friend. He would have let him drown in his own blood-”

“Anka-“ Mr Fiddleson said warningly behind Newt.

“Quiet!” Anka barked, “I have been silent for too long! Your sister! She would have done it! She wanted to! She has always hated Serpine and me but I have held my tongue on your behalf! So you will let me speak now!” 

Mr Fiddleson looked down at the floor, face twitching and cold, while Anka wiped at her eyes and then straightened, steeling her resolve. 

“No one threatens my family.” Anka whispered to Newt, reaching out and retaking his hand over Serpine’s body. “No one. So I will lead you and your Aurors to his whereabouts-in exchange for a fair trial-for a fair life-for my son.”

Newt stared at this woman, straight backed and eyes alight with vengeance and was glad that she had been converted from the other side, even though the circumstances were so severe. If this is what she was like in conversation Newt could only imagine what Anka Fiddleson would be like in a duel.

“…Thank you.” Newt said to her and to Serpine, though he was asleep again, pulled under by some medicating potion. “I will do my best to see it done.”

Mrs Fiddleson nodded, releasing his hand, while Mr Fiddleson turned away, ashamed.


	37. Pensieve

Newt returned to where Tina and Queenie were waiting in the hallway, the two of them standing where they’d been sitting and crossing to him.

“I know where he is.” Newt said nervously, “Grindelwald has him-We’ll need back up.”

“I have a team,” Tina said stoically once she’d gotten over the shock, “I can have them debriefed and ready to move in under an hour.”

“Alright, alright…” Newt nodded, eyes going a little distant before they glowed with the beginnings of an idea. Beside Tina, Queenies eyes went a little wide but she made no comment as Newt continued, smiling at them both, “…But before we go-there’s some things I need to pick up…”

\---

Credence woke up bound to a chair in a small, grey bricked room. There was only one working muggle light at its centre, a few posters detailing correct shoe sizing specifications on the walls and a cold, empty feeling, as if the people who had once worked there were long since passed.

In front of Credence was a door with a single window pane near its top, outside of the room was darker than within it and impossible for Credence to see into.

Credence gasped, shaking his hair out of his eyes and looking around. He could still feel the crushing effects from the anti-obscurial spell, weighing on him like someone pushing down on his chest. He tried to tear at his restraints but gave up when they only tightened more, by magic, as he writhed in them.

Credence dropped his hand back against the chair behind him, trying to catch his breath and looked up when he heard voices coming down the hall outside of his prison.

“…Not a problem, they won’t tell, Savan wont risk Azkaban for his son, he’s too much of a coward and we’ll be done here before they can figure it out.”

Credence dropped his head to his shoulder, feigning sleep in the hopes the two men would reveal something more useful, when the door to his prison was opened and two men stepped inside.

Credence did his best to keep his breathing steady, listening intently, when warm hands grabbed his face, turning his chin upward into the light. 

“…Tired are we, Mr ‘Fulskin’?” A mellowed voice said, making Credence shiver in a cold sweat. 

Credence opened his eyes slowly, fear gripping him entirely as he looked into the pale, cold, face of Gellert Grindelwald.

Credence sucked in a deep breath, trying to push himself backwards by his feet on the floor as Grindelwald smiled at him, brushing his hair back from his face. Credence turned away from the touch, shuddering and Grindelwald straightened.

“Fetch the Pensieve, Mr Orwell.” Grindelwald said to the man behind him. Orwell nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him with a loud clang.

Credence stared at the wall beside him, trying his best to fight down nausea at his fear and the effects of the spell pressing into him. Choking him every second he was in this building and tamping down any anger or vengeful feeling and replacing it with cold, stricken, fear.

“…I’m sorry we had to reunite like this, Credence.” Grindelwald said his hands clasped behind his back where he stared down at the young man, locked into the chair in front of him. “You don’t know how excited I was-when I realised the young man in my visions was the very same I thought I had lost in New York, I didn’t know it until tonight, of course, but I suspected...”

Credence shook his head, his edges fraying and burning, making him gasp, unable to summon his obscurus without crushing pain.

“Power like yours…” Grindelwald continued, shaking his head, “It can’t just be destroyed like that. No, it requires a much-softer touch.” 

“I won’t work with you!” Credence spat, “I know what you are now.”

“…What I am?” Grindelwald asked. Credence turned, staring up at the man looming in front of him with bitter eyes. “And what am I, Credence?”

“…You’re a monster.” Credence whispered. 

Grindelwald stared down at Credence and then laughed, shaking his head at the boy.

“Oh, dear Credence, you must see the hypocrisy in a statement like that?” Grindelwald said. “You, an obscurial, who-by magical definition are diseased with a parasitic nature, whose only goal in the world is the destruction and decimation of others-calling me a monster?”

Credence sucked in a short, hurt, breath and held it, shaking his head.

“…Don’t shake your head at me, Credence.” Grindelwald said, grabbing Credence’s jaw and forcing him to look into his face again. “Remember who it was that pulled you out of the dirt and delivered you to your salvation-who is the reason for your life right now.”

“It’s not you.” Credence hissed, “You did nothing for me-except for push me to hurt people-to try and use me-”

“I tried to help you Credence,” Grindelwald said, holding him by his face and leaning forward, making Credence cringe backward as much as he could. “But you refused to accept my help…I was too soft on you. Too kind. I see that now the only thing you understand is pain and suffering…So I’ll lower myself to your level if that’s what it takes to reach you.”

Grindelwald released Credence and straightened up as Orwell entered the room, carrying a strange bowl and a stool which he placed by Grindelwald’s side before bowing and leaving the room again at a look from the man.

Once they were alone again Grindelwald rolled up his sleeves, ignoring Credence as he drew his wand and tapped it against the bowl, where white light suddenly began to shine ominously from within.

Credence’s eyes darted between the bowl and Grindelwald as the wizard drew his wand and then set a chilling, clinical, gaze on the tied up youth.

“Now Credence,” Grindelwald said clearly, “Let’s see exactly where you’ve been hiding these past months...”

Grindelwald pressed his wand to the side of Credence’s temple.


	38. The Beast’s Belly

It was night time when Newt, Tina, Queenie and her team of American and English Aurors closed in on the shoe factory where Mrs Fiddleson had confessed (under the influence of veritaserum) that Grindelwald and his accomplices were holding Credence.

Tina and the other Aurors were going over their plan to storm the building, while Newt was fiddling carefully with a strange, rattling, blue, cage at his hip and tucking something into his shirt. His case was back at the ministry, in the care of one of his closest friends from the department where he’d used to work. 

“Now, no one try to be a hero tonight.” Tina said to her circle of fellow Aurors, “We have our orders, capture as many as you can, find and secure Credence Barebone and take Grindelwald-alive-it’s a matter of international relations that he be caught and interrogated and we can’t do that if someone gets excited and takes him out.”

The Aurors (and Queenie, who couldn’t be convinced to stay behind no matter how hard Tina tried) all nodded. 

“That goes for you too, Newt,” Tina said, turning to where Newt had been standing a few seconds before.

Now though there was just empty floor space within the muggle shop they’d hidden in across the street from the factory.

Tina took a deep breath in and then turned back to her Aurors, who all looked around but could find no trace of the man. Queenie busied herself tucking some hair behind her ear and avoiding Tina’s gaze.

“…And if you can-please do not kill Newton Scamander in the cross fire.” Tina said, then turned away muttering, “As I am going to do that myself…”

\---

Newt apparated onto a window sill two stories up in the factory that had been blown asunder by some massive force and climbed inside. He dropped lightly onto the floor and crept, as quietly as he could, toward the centre of the factory.

Twice he saw people in black robes turning a corner and had to slip into the shadows, holding his breath and clutching his wand and cage as they went past, then continued moving forward undetected.

Newt peered into dark doorways as he passed them, searching for Credence, but didn’t deviate from his plan to reach the middle of the factory.

Once he was near the balcony that led to the large main room Mrs Fiddleson had spoken of in her confession he carefully placed his mysterious crate in a corner. Once on the floor it shifted colour from the blue of his coat to the grey of the walls, blending almost completely with the environment around it.

Newt very carefully pulled a pin halfway out of a magical clasp on the side of the cage and then straightened. Still half ducked over he began to look around, trying to think of where he’d keep Credence if he were an evil, murderous, fanatic bent on using obscurus to his own sick ends.

He didn’t have much time to ponder it before the relative quiet inside of the building was disturbed by a man’s voice yelling.

“Aurors! Aurors!”

There was a crash, a bang and then the sounds of duelling began.


	39. Possessions

Credence gasped, freezing in the New York winter cold where it blew through his broken, tattered, window and into his frigid, tiny, cot. His hands were sore and bloody from the belt and he just wanted to die, here, in his bed.

No one would miss me. He thought with absolute certainty. Nobody at all.

‘You’re right,’ A voice said in his ear and he turned into the warmth of it, of a familiar hand pressed against his neck. 

For a moment Credence rebutted against that voice. He fought to recall the smell of soft white fur and the chirps of tiny magical birds. Of sea air, scarred hands and private smiles and the whirring of jazz from a gramophone somewhere far away.

Before he could focus though he was pressed to icy brick in an alleyway, weeping with laboured, shuddering, breaths because he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt sick in every way, starved, lonely, desperate and the man touching him wiped a palm over his hands and took away some of his pain. 

I need him. Credence thought with absolute bitter certainty. 

‘You do.’ A voice whispered at him. 

Credence was shocked out of his traumatic reverie when the wand pressed to his temple was suddenly snapped away. He gasped, head lolling back as Grindelwald turned from him, frowning at the doorway where the sounds of crashing and fighting had broken out.

Beside Credence the pensieve was awash with glowing, white, memories.

“…It seems we have company.” Grindelwald said, “Far sooner than I expected, but not totally unwelcome.”

Credence breathed in deep, needy, gulps of air, trying to remember where he was or how he’d gotten to be there. Stomach roiling as his mind raced to put all the pieces back together where they’d been magically torn apart.

Grindelwald turned back to Credence, gently turning his head so that he was looking him in the eye, still dazed and confused as to where, when or who he was.

“Wait here for me, Credence.” Grindelwald said and then pressed his lips to Credence’s forehead.

Credence, so traumatised by the events of the last half hour and searching the room for someone dear, who he was sure had been close only seconds before, leant into the touch.

\---

Newt was rubbish at duels, but he did his best to aid the Aurors (or keep out of their way) as best he could. But he needed to find Credence, as fast as possible, if he could. 

He was racing down yet another hall way, as their seemed to be a warren of them within this clearly magically distorted building, each more cold and grey than the last when he rounded a corner and came face to face with Gellert Grindelwald.

Newt recognised him first and swung his wand up, knocking the man back into the wall behind him and turning on his tail to run in the opposite direction before Grindelwald recovered, growling and chasing after the man.

Newt slipped behind a shadowed corner and quickly pulled a white whistle from inside his shirt free and then clutched his wand as Grindelwald approached.

“Back for more, are you, Mr Scamander?” Grindelwald said, marching toward him darkly.

Newt stepped out from his hiding place and fired two spells, before running back toward the main room, Grindelwald hot on his heels and apparating to meet him sooner. Newt was struck onto his hands and knees and rolled forward, just missing two of Grindelwald’s curses and apparating onto his feet a few metres ahead.

“I know you hid him from me!” Grindelwald cried as Newt finally burst into the main room, up on the catwalk, where the Aurors and Grindelwald’s supporters fought bitterly below. Newt turned, wand drawn and expression fearless. “How incredibly stupid of you to involve yourself again in something that doesn’t concern you.”

Newt fired two spells which Grindelwald parried with ease then shot back a curse that knocked Newt onto his back on the ground. From below Tina cried out his name, but couldn’t disentangle herself from the battle she was in with four other wizards.

“I can’t imagine what Albus sees in you,” Grindelwald said, advancing on Newt where he was propping himself up on his arms, pushing himself backwards until he was pressed against the wall behind him. “I have an army of loyal followers at my back-and what do you have? A case full of parlour pets and half an education. Perhaps if you’d stayed a few more years you would be smart enough to know that you should never have gotten in my way.”

Newt went to fire one last spell at Grindelwald, who knocked his wand out of his hand, sending it flying off somewhere to the right. 

“…I guess you’re right.” Newt breathed, as Grindelwald took a few more steps toward him, wand drawn, “But there is one thing I have-which you don’t.”

“Oh yes?” Grindelwald asked, dark, pale eyes staring at Newt hatefully. “And what is that?”

“…A very angry dragon.” Newt said. Then pressed the whistle around his neck to his lips and blew hard.

Behind Newt, the tiny cage that blended into the wall so perfectly even Grindelwald had missed it suddenly rattled viciously then burst open. Inside a beast about the size of a cat flew from the cage and violently expanded to reveal the Swedish Short Snout-roaring and lashing its wings against the walls around it ferociously as it grew to twice its normal size.

Newt pressed himself against the wall and Grindelwald stepped back as the dragon’s reptilian eyes settled on him and it sucked in a deep, guttural, breath.

The dark wizard only just managed to apparate out of the way as the dragon bathed the space where he had been seconds before in blue fire.


	40. Rescue Party

Queenie did her best to zero in on Credence the moment she entered the building, it was difficult, but she’d been working with her powers from an early age and so she moved as swiftly as she could through the building to where she thought she could feel Credence’s pain emanating from.

Unfortunately focusing that hard on Credence’s whereabouts left her open and though she rounded another confusing corner in the labyrinth of Grindelwald’s lair, wand at the ready and then finally found Credence, standing on tiptoe and staring into a dark room with a white light inside of it and the boy himself strapped to a chair the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up.

Queenie turned, but wasn’t quick enough to keep her wand as one of Grindelwald’s army disarmed her.

Queenie took a few steps back, reading the man’s intentions before he spoke, her skin paling as she tried to retreat back to where her wand had flown.

“What are you going to do now, lady?” The man asked, “Beat me with your purse?”

Just as the man was drawing back his wand to attack Queenie however a brick came flying from behind, cracking him over the head and dropping him onto his front, unconscious.

Queenie’s eyes went wide as Elizabeth Berry appeared, dressed in a stolen, black robe, wand hand just lowering and breath coming in short, excited, pants.

“Well that’ll do it, don’t you think?” Eliza said, smiling at Queenie who blinked, startled at the youth’s appearance before she grinned back, regaining her wand and setting upon the door.

\---

Inside of the room Credence slowly began to come to again as he felt the small patter of tiny feet along his arms. He opened his eyes as he felt the restraints on his wrists beginning to loosen, one after the other, until both of his hands were freed.

He looked down and saw Picket carefully scuttling back up his arms to hide in his lapel as the door to the room was blown off its hinges.

Eliza and Queenie stood in the doorway, faces aglow with stress and excitement.

“Clarence!” Eliza cried and Credence smiled weakly as the two women ran over to him, lifting him from his chair.

“The spell,” Credence said as the pair tried to put him on his feet, “I can’t walk. It’s draining me…”

“Right.” Queenie said, huffing as she helped Eliza hold him aloft over her shoulder, “That’s fine, we’re going to get you out of here.”

“…Serpine?...Newt?” Credence asked.

“Both safe, or, well, Serpine’s safe.” Eliza said. “I think I saw Newt with a dragon earlier.”

As if to punctuate her statement a loud roar rent the air behind them as well as a flash of blue down the hall.

“Alright, we’re all getting out of here, right now.” Queenie said determinedly. 

“I agree, Clarence has to be taken to safety. But I came to help!” Eliza said certainly. “Or at least curse that dreadful woman who tried to kill my mother!”

“Revenge won’t fix anything.” Queenie said surely. “And tonight is not the night to extract it, no matter how well deserved it is.”

Eliza was about to argue her case further, while Queenie prepared to apparate, when the walls around the trio rumbled with magical energy and then all the lights went out.


	41. Dual Nemesis

The Aurors were gaining the upper hand. 

The dragon had tipped the scales and spooked them enough that some were trying to apparate away or run to a different side of the factory to regroup, everywhere they tried to hide though, a flash of a blue coat would appear, as well as the sound of a throaty whistle and the dragon would crash through a wall snarling, snapping and lay into them.

The Ministry had sent more Aurors, after the sting and they were surrounding the building, capturing Grindelwald’s supporters as they tried to escape.

In the middle of the mayhem, the doors to the Shoe Factory burst open and Newt paused in his apparating to behold Albus Dumbledore, dressed in his nightgown under his long, black, jacket, striding into the middle of the factory.

“Gellert Grindelwald!” Dumbledore yelled, his wand to his throat amplifying his cry and bellowing across the premises.

The building seemed to hold its breath and Newt watched in horrified fascination as Grindelwald appeared in front of Dumbledore, apparating with a crack and threw a spell which knocked the two Aurors on either side of Dumbledore down. Dumbledore however stayed upright and the pair became locked in a vicious duel which had Aurors and Grindelwald’s supporters scrabbling for cover.

Newt stared, bent over the railing up on the cat walk, as Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s wands became locked in a fireworks display of crackling light, each spell pushing back at the other. 

They remained that way, staring each other down, both whispering incantations under their breath until molten flickers and foams of light like flecks of starlight exploded in a thunderous wave, sucking all the light from the room.

Newt couldn’t see a thing, even when he attempted to light the end of his wand. There were screams, cries and the sounds of spells being flung in the dark before there was another, breath taking roar and blue flame lit the room from below.

Newt only just managed to stagger out of the way of the flame, falling back onto the steel cat walk and then rolling back onto his feet as the dragon climbed up onto the cat walk in front of him, causing the steel to scream and bend. He took out his whistle and blew it once, softly. 

The dragon’s glowing, blue, eyes, settled on Newt and it cocked its head to the side. Above the creature its fire was eating through the roof of the building and the magical darkness was pierced by star and moonlight from above.

Newt kept his head down, not daring to challenge the beast in front of him as it began to claw its way over to him, girders bending and protesting beneath its bulk. He blew again very softly on the dragon whistle, bowed nearly in half to make himself appear smaller and it halted in front of him, reaching its long neck out toward him and sniffing at his hair.

Newt held his breath, carefully bringing up the tip of his wand to point it at the dragon and whispered ‘diminuendo’.

The dragon immediately began to shrink back to a tiny size, roaring loudly until it became a garbled mewl of a noise and Newt rushed forward to capture it before it could fly away. Picking it up in his arms and grabbing its snout so it couldn’t set him alight. He rushed the creature back to its abandoned cage and wrestled it inside.

\---

“Where is Grindelwald?” Dumbledore yelled, rushing through the crowd of Aurors who were quickly banishing the magical darkness spell and capturing Grindelwald’s supporters as the few left tried to run.

“We don’t know, sir.” Tina said, rushing up to Dumbledore, looking battered and exhausted, “Someone thought they saw him retreating, we’re doing our best to lock down the perimeter… If you don’t mind me asking, who exactly are you?”

Dumbledore smiled grimly at her, “Just an old friend of our fugitive, I’m afraid.” 

Tina stared back at the teacher and then looked up at where Newt was hefting the dragon’s cage back onto his hip. Whispering to the beast calmingly as it rattled around. She shook her head fondly at the man and then followed Dumbledore and the other Aurors on their hunt.

\---

Credence suddenly straightened in Queenie and Eliza’s arms where they’d been preparing to apparate away, the constraints of the spell upon him falling away as there was a loud, thundering, sound which shook the entire factory and all of a sudden everything went pitch black.

But even in the pitch black Credence found he could see.

Credence stepped out of his friends’ hold, marching forward with a dark, angry, purpose. All the pain and trauma of his capture suddenly rushing to meet him at once and igniting a savage flame within his chest. Queenie and Eliza groped for him in the dark and Queenie caught his sleeve before he shrugged her off. Marching forward.

“Credence!” Queenie cried, “Don’t! You won’t feel better!”

But Credence marched onwards, fading at the edges.

\---

Newt finally managed to get the dragon to settle down and began his search of the factory for Credence. There were some lower levels he’d passed by without investigating them properly and he wanted to be sure Grindelwald hadn’t smuggled Credence out during the moments of utter darkness.

He trekked down some steps, around a few corners and down the end of a hallway when he ran into Queenie and Eliza, almost getting hexed for his trouble.

“Oh!” Eliza gasped, while Queenie just held the school girl back, making her miss Newt with a spell by an inch. “Mr Scamander, I’m sorry-“

“Not a problem,” Newt cut in, “Where’s Credence?”

“He disappeared,” Queenie said, “I’m trying to track him but he keeps fading in and out. Newton,” Queenie took Newt’s arm then, leaning in a little closer, “He’s looking for Grindelwald-he wants to kill him-using the obscurus.”

“…The what?” Eliza asked, looking back and forth between her two older friends. “…You mean-that black shadow-“

“We have to find him.” Newt said pale and even more worried than before. “If he kills Grindelwald and the Aurors find him first-“

“I can hear him.” Queenie cut in. “Quick, this way!”


	42. Reach Into The Fire

Credence was a walking shadow. He felt nothing but an uncontrollable hatred. A bitterness that surpassed anything he’d ever felt in his life. His mind was a ruin, a wreck, where Grindelwald had pulled him apart under his wand and tried to feed him false memories while he was sick and battered and crushed by his curse.

He’d abused Credence, lodging seeds of his influence into Credence’s mind and Credence felt absolutely clear now on what he had to do.

His life with Newt, at Hogwarts, had been a small segue from his real purpose, the real reason he’d fought the other obscurus within the case. Devouring its energy like a beast feasts on a carcass.

He’d been driven then by a simple passion, the only passion that had ever moved him before.

Revenge.

Credence could see now, even in the pitch black. Walls fell in front of him as he moved through the lower portions of the abandoned shoe factory, tearing down magical and physical barriers alike and drifting down stairs until he was in the sewers below, the escape tunnels for Grindelwald and his supporters. 

He came upon a steel grated gate and stepped through it, his form bending the steel outwards like a can opener. Once he’d crossed the gateway he looked around, taking in his surroundings vaguely.

The walls were awash with green and blue light that shone from the watery canal that flowed from one end of the room to the other. Magical light in the water casting spectral shadows up onto the walls and ceiling. There were boats on the water and crates of abandoned muggle explosives and supplies Grindelwald’s army had abandoned in their quick escape. 

The room was quiet except for occasional rumbles like thunder and the sound of rock hitting the cold, damp, ground where duels raged on above knocking rubble from the ceiling. Half way towards a boat Credence could sense-more than see-a dark figure.

Grindelwald stood just in front of him, obscured at first by a pylon he’d been hidden behind, dropping a glass vial from between his fingertips. Credence remained still and just stared at him while his essence, his obscurus, vicious and potent like a swarm of black energy whipped all around his shoulders.

Grindelwald turned to Credence, but made no sound. Just smiled at him as he slipped his wand from his sleeve pocket.

Just as Credence was about to snap forward, rip apart the man’s body, rid the world of his nemesis for good, there was a loud cry from behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Credence, wait!” Newt yelled, throwing himself through the bent grate and into the cavern. 

Behind him, running to catch up, Queenie and Eliza appeared, wands drawn, faces paling at the sight in front of them. Footsteps echoing loudly off the wet floor and walls. 

Credence glanced over his shoulder, eyes red and glowing, his obscurus wrapping around him like sand in a storm. Credence had never felt so whole and full of ambition, of righteous purpose, until now. 

Newt very slowly put down his dragon’s cage and stuck his wand back into his jacket pocket before taking a few hesitant steps toward Credence, who watched him, unaffected, almost incapable of recognising the man inching towards him with his palms outward. 

“Credence…” Newt said. “Please, can I come over to you?”

Credence’s damaged and hurt memory recalled a different time, in a different tunnel, when a younger Newt Scamander had asked the same question.

Credence obscurus hissed in warning and rose, filling the ceiling, but still tangled to Credence’s shoulders like terrible wings.

\---

Newt stood, a few feet in front of Credence, palms out, wand nestled against his side, as Credence’s obscurus surged over his shoulders, blotting out the magical lighting beside him. In front of Credence, Grindelwald stood, wand drawn.

Newt had never seen a display so obviously threatening in a non-magical creature before and stopped his advance, not wanting to set Credence off.

The second Credence turned away however Grindelwald cast a spell which hit Credence in the side, knocking him back. Newt ran forward, as Queenie and Eliza gasped, drawing his wand.

Credence never hit the ground, his obscurus gulping him up like a wave of black water and surging toward Grindelwald. Before the man could apparate it was on him, pouring over him and drowning the man in its clutches.

“Credence!” Newt cried, as Grindelwald was pinned to the ceiling by the obscurus and covered completely. Like cement over a flinching insect, with only his face visible and the outline of his chest and legs. Credence appeared again, a focal point at the base of the obscurus where one of his arms was stretched upwards, commanding the black shade which held Grindelwald stuck to the ceiling of the sewer.

Queenie was right, Newt realised, as Credence turned back to look at him. Credence was no longer consumed by his obscurus, he controlled it completely.

“…Credence,” Newt murmured, taking a few, cautious, steps toward his friend. “…Do you recognise me?”

Credence stared at Newt but made no move either in the affirmative or negative. The obscurus slipping over Grindelwald’s face and making him choke for a few seconds before allowing him to breathe again, gasping and coughing. Toying with him. 

“I know he’s hurt you…” Newt went on, eyes locked on Credence’s emotionally devoid expression, “But it’s like we talked about-you remember? Long ago…You’re not a monster, Credence... Don’t let him turn you into one.”

Credence stared at Newt for a few more seconds before his gaze slipped to the ground, thinking. For a second Newt thought he saw a wave of complex emotion wash over Credence’s features before it was smothered again by total apathy. The influence of the obscurus.

“…I should kill him.” Credence whispered in a monotonous voice. “Before he kills again.”

“No.” Newt said, making Credence look up, “You’ve had your fill of that, Credence…Murder with good intentions is still murder...”

Credence stared at Newt, just as Tina’s Aurors filed down the stairs behind the damaged steel gate. Tina put up an arm, stopping her team and making them stand back, while Dumbledore brushed by her, stepping through the gate and joining Queenie and Eliza who were staring up at Credence where he was held a foot from the ground, almost completely cocooned by his obscurus, Newt just a few feet in front of him.

“Credence,” Newt whispered, edging closer, “Think of everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve achieved in so short a time-would you really throw it all away-for him?”

Behind Credence the obscurus poured over Grindelwald’s face like thick molasses, drowning him where he thrashed and struggled trying to cry out but totally smothered.

Newt gasped as he watched Grindelwald choking, dying, fastened to the ceiling and suddenly ran forward, reaching into the shifting sand of Credence’s obscurus with both hands and taking the boy’s arm. White hot pain ran up Newt’s arms, eating at the fabric of his jacket until it ground down to the skin, burning him.

“Newt!” Tina cried, while Dumbledore grabbed Eliza where she’d leapt forward, pulling her back and holding her fast. 

“Credence!” Newt begged, barely flinching as his arms began to graze and blister. “Please, you’re better than this, don’t do this! Don’t throw your life away!”

Credence stared down at Newt and then his face began to twitch, his eyes flashing red, then brown, then red again. He struggled with some internal battle and then tears dripped from his eyes.

“I don’t want to run forever.” Credence whispered to Newt, while Grindelwald’s thrashing began to cease and the Aurors began to raise their wands despite Tina’s harsh commands. “I just want it to be over.”

“Then don’t.” Newt whispered, “Come with me, we’ll protect you.”

Credence blinked then looked over at where Queenie and Eliza stood and where Tina and Dumbledore stared up at him with wide eyes and frightened expressions.

Newt pulled insistently at Credence’s hand, attempting to drag him from the hot, scalding smoke of his obscurus. His skin torn and blistering where he held Credence, obscurus biting at Newt’s skin and steaming. Newt barely felt it though, intent on holding Credence’s gaze as he whispered.

“Let me help you,” Newt begged, wincing as the obscurus began to sear up past his forearms but not looking away or releasing him, “I don’t want to watch you die again Credence-Please.”

Credence stared at Newt, eyes bright red and expression pained before suddenly, like a storm passing, Grindelwald was dropped from the ceiling as Credence’s obscurus screamed back inside of him, whipping around him like a hurricane until he was dropped back onto his feet. Credence fell into Newt’s arms where he’d been pulling Credence forward. Newt gasped in surprise as the painful attacks on his arms suddenly ceased, staggering in his attempts to keep Credence upright.

Grindelwald fell from the ceiling onto his hands and knees, coughing and hacking and the Aurors ran in, wands drawn, to capture him before he could escape. Tina, Queenie and Eliza all ran to where Newt had carefully slid Credence to the floor. The last traces of Credence’s obscurus blowing away from them like smoke in the air.

A few feet away Dumbledore walked, leant down and picked up the vial that Grindelwald had dropped moments earlier. He held it to his nose and sniffed the contents before turning back to the crowd who were hauling the man to his feet.

“Polyjuice potion.” Dumbledore said, making everyone in the room pause, “I think you’ll find in a few hours this person, whoever they are, will no longer resemble the man we have tried so valiantly to apprehend.”

The Aurors went wide eyed and then looked down at the man kneeling on the ground, chuckling and then looking up at Dumbledore with wicked, pale, eyes.

“Very clever, professor.” A surprisingly feminine voice said, making Newt and the others lean back and stare. “Though it is very bad form for you to let the cat out of the bag so early, don’t you think?”

“Hardly, madam.” Dumbledore replied. “Tell me, what did he promise you for electing to die in his place? What could possibly be worth such a horrible fate?”

The person acting as Grindelwald laughed, a low, predatory, sound before staring at Dumbledore seriously.

“The chance to die for the greater good,” The feminine voice whispered, “What will you die for, Albus?”

Dumbledore blinked down at the person before them but did not respond, causing the Grindelwald look alike to turn to them all, announcing to the room.

“What will any of you die for, in the end, if not the greater good?”

Newt held Credence close, while Tina, Queenie and Eliza remained huddled around him, wands drawn and faces tired with the exhaustive efforts of keeping one another alive.

“I don’t think you’ll find any sympathy here, Ma’am,” Tina said, standing up and drawing her wand. “Maybe you’ll have better luck in Azkaban, I’ve heard it’s very nice this time of year.” 

The Grindelwald look alike spat in their direction and was then hauled to their feet by several Aurors who disappeared with the hand cuffed prisoner while Dumbledore just smiled at Tina and the small group where they knelt in a ring around Credence’s prone form.


	43. In the Ashes

When Credence awoke it was in small starts and stops. The first time he woke up it was to Newt and Tina arguing again while Queenie sat beside him, watching him waking up and shaking her head subtly at him. Credence sighed and fell back asleep before the others noticed he was awake. The second time, Queenie stood with Eliza and Serpine where they were standing beside him, looking down at him and talking in hushed tones while Eliza gently squeezed his hand. 

The third time Credence woke sunlight was filtering in through a small window above his bed and Newt was asleep in a chair beside him, arms crossed on top of his case and head rested atop his arms, messy hair shielding his face from view. 

Credence blinked, then frowned, feeling achy and light headed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Newt just kept snoring lightly, tucking his arms a little tighter around his case. Bandages peeking out from under his white shirt (his blue coat was hung over the back of his chair).

Credence sniffed and rubbed his eyes, trying to work out where he was or how he’d gotten to be there. His head felt strangely empty, like he was under the effect of some kind of weird spell.

Credence turned to his bedside table and noticed an empty potion bottle that read ‘Morpheus’ full strength healing draught! For dreamless sleep and a better recovery!’

That’d do it. Credence thought, leaning back into his pillows and feeling honestly a little drunk. He reached out to pick up a glass of water that had been left by his bedside table and accidentally knocked it to the floor, waking Newt up with a start.

“What? What?” Newt gasped, sitting up straight and looking around. His eyes settled on Credence and his face lit up, smiling brightly.

“Credence-“ Newt breathed, “You’re awake!”

Credence nodded, since, well, he was.

“Thank goodness-I told them that sleeping draught was going to be too strong for you-but they insisted you take it when you arrived.” Newt carefully placed his case by his chair and scooted a little closer, taking one of Credence’s hands and squeezing it excitedly. “I was worried-I thought you might not come back-I-I promised to send for a nurse but I think we ought to speak first, don’t you?”

Credence blinked slowly at Newt, unsure as to why Newt seemed so agitated and why their apartment looked so much like a converted office all of a sudden.

“Newt.” Credence said, stopping the man in his tracks. “…What happened? Where am I?”

“…You’re in London, at the Ministry.” Newt said, seeming to finally notice Credence’s confusion. “…You’re-recovering-after what happened with Grindelwald and his followers…”

“…What?” Credence asked before doubling over and grasping at his head, covering his eyes as shards of grey and green memories began to crash into his consciousness. 

Oh no, OH NO, Credence thought as it all came rushing back.

“Easy, easy there,” Newt said, carefully helping Credence lay back against the pillows behind him, breathing raggedly. “Here.” He pressed the fallen cup, with fresh water within it, back into his hands. “You were not yourself back there, a pensieve was found with your memories within it…Tina thinks-Tina thinks Grindelwald was attempting to influence you using legilimency. That is, piercing your mind and then piecing it back together…Professor Dumbledore believes it’s the reason your obscurus materialised so strongly once the spell diminishing it was destroyed, like a kind of defence mechanism.”

Credence drank his water slowly and took a few, stabilising breaths, head throbbing.

Newt watched Credence and took his glass back when he was done, placing it back on the bedside table and sighing as Credence closed his eyes and attempted to regain his composure.

“…Did they catch him?” Credence asked, not having to explain who he meant.

Newt shook his head and Credence turned away from him, sucking in a deep breath and holding it, clenching his fists tightly. 

They sat together in silence for a few minutes like that before Newt swallowed and brushed a hand through his hair, making Credence turn back to him. Newt looked so tired, tired and frail, his fingers totally concealed by bandages. Credence stared at Newt’s hands before his eyes went wide.

“…I did that.” Credence said.

Newt glanced up at Credence, then down at his hands, before he tucked them against his sides and out of sight, shaking his head.

“No, that was your obscurus-”

“It was me.” Credence said certainly, making Newt pause, “I remember. I didn’t want you to stop me…I thought I could end it. For everyone-even if I died forever-it’d be worth it. Killing him would have been worth it.”

“…But you didn’t.” Newt said into the silence that followed.

Credence looked up at Newt with an expression that was difficult to decipher, a mixture of regret and sadness. “No. I didn’t.”

They shared a long look before Newt finally let out a long sigh and patted Credence’s hand where it sat beside him on the bed.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Credence.” Newt murmured. “Everything has been such a blur. I’ve been to 3 different hearings trying to plead my case on your behalf. The Wizengamot can’t decide whether I should be in Azkaban for harbouring you-or given a medal for aiding in the capture of so many of Grindelwald’s supporters…”

“…I think you should ask for the medal.” Credence replied, catching Newt’s tired eyes, “…It’d be a shame to pass up such good niffler bait, after all.”

Newt stared at Credence and then smiled, sadly.

“…I’m proud of you.” Newt said after a few seconds and Credence just stared back, before he sucked in a little breath. “…Of what you did back there-how you controlled yourself.”

“…I hurt you.” Credence said in a small voice. Newt nodded looking down at his arms which had minimal flexibility at that moment.

“True.” Newt said, “But you could’ve done far worse…You continue to impress me, Credence, despite everything you’ve been faced with. I mean that.”

Credence didn’t look up at Newt as the stress of the last few hours suddenly overwhelmed him and he closed his burning eyes, lying back deeper into the pillows behind him.


	44. Trials and Consequence

Credence kept his eyes down all the way through his trial. He was placed in magical cuffs that suppressed any wandless magic (and, hopefully, obscurial magic by extension though Grindelwald was the only wizard to perfect that particular craft yet) and his crimes were listed.

Credence could see Newt in the gallery, as well as Tina, Queenie and Eliza (Serpine was absent, as his family had been taken in for questioning and trials for conspiring with a known dark wizard).

Credence was wanted for the murder of two muggles on non-British soil and knowingly evading arrest for almost a year and a half. There were other, smaller, crimes, though they had been dropped at Tina Goldstein’s insistence. 

“We have heard the testimony of several key witnesses in regards to the nature of your character and your crimes, Mr Barebone.” The woman at the head of the wizengamot stated stoically towards the end of Credence’s hearing, causing Credence to look up. “However the crimes you are accused of are so serious and severe in nature that even the testimony of many good and honest witches and wizards is not enough to excuse you. Therefore I ask you: Do you have anything to say in your defence before we come to our conclusion?”

Credence looked up from where he sat, cuffed to a steel chair under the judgemental eyes of the witches and wizards looking down at him. He purposefully avoided the ones he knew, trying to keep his mind blank and detached. To avoid any unnecessary stress or anger (something Dumbledore had suggested to him, in a brief visit before his hearing).

Credence thought back on everything he’d done, everything he’d experienced over the last year and then looked back up at the lead witch where she stood, watching him clearly. A sea of strangers all around her also bent on his every word.

“…When I was in New York all I ever wanted was to be a part of this world.” Credence said, his voice carrying around the room despite how quietly he spoke. “…Somehow, even though I…Died…I got to be. For a little while…I don’t think it’s fair to expect any special treatment. I don’t expect it.”

There were murmurs around the room at Credence’s carefully chosen words, which were hushed by the lead woman at the head of the stand, who threw up a hand to quiet them as Credence prepared to speak again.

“…I shouldn’t have tried to hide.” Credence admitted, “…But I’ve lived more in the past year than I have in my whole life.” Credence glanced over at where Newt was standing, face stricken and hand clutching Tina’s tightly where she stood next to him, staring down at Credence with a painful, tight expression on her face. Just behind them Eliza was doing her best not to cry and Queenie had a hand on her sister’s shoulder, eyebrows drawn up sadly. Dumbledore stood beside Eliza, watching Credence closely with a serious expression on his face. 

“I can never forget what I did to those people, that man-my mother. It haunts me and I think it will forever…”

Credence looked away when he felt his eyes begin to burn, staring at the floor and clenching and then releasing his hands. The gallery watching on in utter silence.

“…It’s unforgivable,” Credence finished. “And I’m sorry. I’ll accept any punishment you choose.”

There were hushed and passionate whispers around the room at the end of Credence’s speech and he just kept his eyes lowered. Heart just about beating out of his chest with nerves, breaking out into a cold sweat in the moments that followed.

“Credence Barebone,” The witch said, voice asserting itself over the whispers of the crowd, “Since you are an obscurial who has survived death once before your case becomes exceedingly more difficult. Even if the wizengamot chooses to imprison you in Azkaban there is no guarantee that you will not find a way to escape that is not possible for other witches and wizards. I ask all people present to take this into account while considering your punishment.”

The wizengamot all nodded between each other in assent.

Credence stared down at his hands where they were locked to his chair as the Witch at the head of the tribunal spoke with those on her left and right before straightening again a few minutes later. 

“Credence Barebone, we who are gathered here today find you officially guilty of crimes against the international magical community including murder and resisting arrest.” Credence held his breath as the gallery all stared at the woman as she paused, taking a sheet of parchment from a scribe beside her and holding it out in front of her before continuing. “Since you have been found guilty you will be sentenced to 23 years imprisonment which you will serve in a private cell in the Department of Mysteries until a more suitable prison can be found. All who agree with this sentence?”

Around the room hands rose into the air.

“And those opposed?” 

A few hands rose, but they were few.

“Then we are all agreed. Credence Barebone, you are officially under arrest. Your wand will be confiscated until you have completed your sentence. You will surrender any of your current possessions to the Aurors who will escort you from this room. You may be extracted from your cell at any time for further questioning. But for now take him away.”

Credence stared up at the woman, mouth falling open and breath leaving him as several Aurors appeared and extracted him from his chair. 23 years. 23 years in the Department of Mysteries. 

Credence was turned from the witch at the head of the Wizengamot and only had a second to stare over his shoulder at where Newt looked on, face blank and eyes wide with shock, while Tina pressed a hand to his torso, holding him back. Behind him Queenie had an arm around Eliza’s shoulders where they were shaking with barely concealed sobs.

Credence shook his head when Newt took a step forward, pushing against Tina, while Dumbledore watched on with a deep frown, and was then led away.

\---

There was no ceremony, no big parade. Credence was taken to an elevator, where he was transported downwards until they arrived at the Department of Mysteries. He was led down several obsidian black hallways before he was taken into a room. He changed out of his clothes, handed over his wand and everything he had and was given new, plain grey robes to wear.

After that he was escorted to another room which comprised of nothing but a single bed, a desk, a bathroom with a bewitched window which was currently a field at night (despite being miles underground) and a door.

The Aurors told Credence that food would appear at his desk every 6th hour and that he would be granted the privilege of a type writer and paper at the end of that day. That they would patrol the hall outside of his room at all times and that he could request a visit after his first 6 months.

After that they closed the door and Credence was left entirely alone.

Credence stared at the grey, polished stone walls around him and went to sit on his bed. He stared at his hands, flexing them and trying to come to grips with the reality of his imprisonment. 

Credence wasn’t even 23 years old yet, how could he survive that long in a room all by himself?

It’s for the best. He tried to repeat to himself, holding down the panic, the terror, the fear of the walls closing in on him, of being sealed in a tomb at the mercy of his captors. Grindelwald couldn’t reach him here, he tried to assure himself. He was safe here and everyone else was safe from him.

Credence laid down on his bed, still exhausted from his trials in the shoe factory at Grindelwald’s mercy and somehow, despite his creeping anxiety, fell asleep.


	45. If I Could Turn Back Time

Credence wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or if any time had really passed at all when he awoke to the sound of a low, droll, hum. Like heavy snow blowing by. Credence pushed himself up off the bed, feeling groggy, like he’d taken another sleeping draught, but worst.

It reminded him of the anti-obscurial spell in the factory, weighing down on him.

When Credence sat up he realised he had woken somehow, though still propped up on his strange prison bed, within Newt’s case. Credence blinked then felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he felt someone’s gaze on him from behind.

Credence turned and couldn’t understand what he was seeing at first before he realised it was Newt, slumped over his work desk in the cabin, blood dripping from cuts all over his hands where he lay, body completely still. His arms were red and burnt and scarred, draped at wrong angles.

All the air punched out of Credence’s chest and he tried to stand, but couldn’t, as a shadow stepped out from behind Newt, ghostly and pale. A wicked snow storm battered against the outside of the cabin, howling fiercely.

His mother, her face deformed and damaged in the same way that Newt’s arms were. Took careful, twitching steps towards Credence, face judgemental and head shaking from side to side with shame. 

“Look what you’ve done, Credence.” She whispered.

Credence sucked in deep, panicked, breaths, but couldn’t move from where he sat, staring as his mother who looked down at Newt was then blown away, like ash into the breeze.

“No,” Credence gasped, as the ashes passed and he was standing in the middle of Newt’s frozen habitat, the one where he had been remade, except instead of rushing to help him Newt was knelt in the snow, eyes glassy where he was cradling Dougal’s soft, furry, form in his arms. 

“No!” Credence cried as the snow around them blew away revealing the corpses of all of Newt’s creatures, spread all around them in a horrific circle, red flecks of blood and burnt feathers splayed out around them.

Tears dripped silently from Newt’s eyes and his lips stuttered but he made no sound, staring up at Credence hopelessly, clutching Dougal’s stiff body closer to his chest.

“Look what you’ve done.” Credence’s mother whispered from just beside his ear and Credence screamed, unable to move or turn away from Newt where he slowly crumpled into the snow with a sick thud and didn’t move again.

\---

Credence woke again this time to the sound of the door of his cell opening. Credence pressed himself back against the head of his bed, covering his face and pressing his palms into his wet eyes. The vivid memories of his dreams so real he was afraid to look up-in case he was still in them.

“…Credence,” A familiar voice said.

Credence looked up and was met with the cautious face of Albus Dumbledore, who was tucking something into the lapel of his jacket. 

“…Professor?” Credence whispered. 

Dumbledore nodded and Credence caught his breath, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed and standing up, still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t dreaming again. 

“What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to release you.” Dumbledore said, entering the room with a floral woman’s bag which he placed on the bed, rifling around in it and taking out a dress, some shoes and a woman’s coat and hat.

Credence stared at his teacher, bewildered, as Dumbledore pulled out a small potion bottle and handed it to him. 

“Polyjuice potion.” Dumbledore answered before Credence could ask. “Bitter, unfortunately, but good for changing your appearance for up to 2 hours. If we’re lucky you won’t need half of that.”

“…I don’t understand.” Credence said as Dumbledore straightened, watching him carefully, “You heard them upstairs-I’m in prison, I can’t go-“

“You are.” Dumbledore said. “But you must believe me when I say that this is not where you belong. Nor where you-or anyone else-is safe.”

Credence stared at his teacher, who was picking up the women’s clothes and pressing them into his arms.

“Go. Take the potion and get dressed. We don’t have much time.”

“I can’t leave.” Credence said certainly, “Grindelwald will find me-“

“Grindelwald will use legilimency to find you anyway.” Dumbledore said in a serious voice, silencing Credence. “You’re not safe here and neither is anyone else who attempts to imprison you. Your nightmares will see to that. No, Credence,” Dumbledore placed a hand on Credence’s arm and squeezed, “You cannot stay here, it will drive you mad and make you more dangerous and desperate than the Ministry could ever imagine. Please understand I am not just freeing you for your own sake-but for the lives of the people who are attempting to keep you here.”

“…How can you know all of this?” Credence asked, holding the woman’s clothing to his chest with a curious look. “How did you find me?”

“I will explain another time.” Dumbledore promised, then shooed him off to the bathroom.

\---

Credence re-emerged from the bathroom as a young woman with short, brown, hair curled all around his face. He’d struggled into the woman’s dress after his transformation and had done his best to make himself presentable although he wobbled in the small heel of his shoes.

Dumbledore stood when Credence returned from the bathroom, placing a watch back into his pocket and standing with a grim expression on his face.

“Prepare yourself, Credence,” Dumbledore said, handing Credence the woman’s bag and taking his arm. “The next part will be the most challenging.”

Dumbledore escorted Credence from his cell after that, their arms linked and instructed Credence to keep his eyes cast downward and speak to no one as they passed through hall after hall, bending and twisting in ways Credence was sure they hadn’t the first time. Like the halls had re-arranged themselves since he’d first been brought down.

Credence was sure that without Dumbledore to guide him he never would have found his way out even if he had managed to escape.

Finally, after what seemed like an age Dumbledore and Credence arrived at the elevator. 

They got inside and Dumbledore pressed a button causing them to surge upward. Credence stared straight ahead as they rose, clutching his floral bag tightly, while Dumbledore kept a watchful eye on his pocket watch. 

They finally arrived at the main level of the Ministry, bustling with activity after the recent raid and the grate peeled back. Dumbledore led Credence from the elevator and they moved through the thick crowds of Ministry workers and Aurors heading towards the floo network.

Dumbledore suddenly paused, just as they were about to reach the heaths and drew Credence up short, stepping backward and pretending to point out something interesting to Credence as the team of Aurors from America passed by with Tina Goldstein at their head.

Credence tried to play along but couldn’t help glancing over at where Queenie Goldstein was walking beside her sister.

All of a sudden, Queenie paused, her brow creasing as she turned to Credence, tilting her head to the side.

Dumbledore followed Credence’s gaze and Ms Goldstein’s eye and the Professor’s met for a few seconds before Tina noticed her sister falling behind and trotted back to her, tapping her shoulder to get her attention and asked her a question. Queenie tore her gaze from Credence and Dumbledore quickly pushed Credence forward, marching him down the hall, before the occulumens had the chance to look back.

They were finally on their way to the floo Dumbledore was heading for when someone turned around, case in hand and bodily walked into the teacher.

Dumbledore stepped back, sweeping an arm out to stop Credence from walking forward as Newt Scamander looked up, eyes red and tired and case clutched tightly in hand. His eyes went wide and the apology on his lips died at Dumbledore’s appearance.

“Professor!” Newt said, quickly wiping his nose and sniffing, “Sorry, sorry, I was miles away-I thought you’d gone?”

“I forgot something.” Dumbledore said quickly, while Newt turned his eyes on Credence who stared, wide eyed, before looking back down at the floor as he’d been commanded and feeling Newt’s stare on him where he fidgeted in his woman’s clothing. “I was sure you would have left by now…Are you quite alright, Mr Scamander?”

“Oh, yes.” Newt said, nodding certainly but not meeting his teacher’s eye, shoulders slumped and posture beaten. Credence felt his heart ache to see his friend so battered and defeated. Arms still bandaged from where Credence’s obscurus had bit at his skin. “I am-I will be fine, thank you Professor.”

Credence sucked in a short, harsh, breath and held it as he recalled a similarly scarred Newt in his nightmares.

Newt looked up at the sound of Credence’s quick inhale, staring at him and catching his gaze. Credence stared back at Newt with wide, foreign, green eyes in his borrowed female face. 

“I’m sorry…” Newt murmured, brow creasing as he blinked at Credence, “Have we met before?”

Credence opened his mouth to speak but Dumbledore broke in before he had the chance.

“Ah, of course, I seem to have forgotten my manners on this dark day,” Dumbledore gestured at Credence, who held out his unfamiliar hand, with its chipped, red nail polish, to Newt as Dumbledore went on, “Mr Scamander, this is Sylvia Pitchman, a relative of my family visiting from abroad. Her English is a little rusty. Sylvia, this is an ex-student of mine, Newton Scamander.”

“A pleasure, madam.” Newt said, taking Credence’s hand and shaking it gingerly (as his hands were still bandaged up to the forearm).

Credence nodded but said nothing at all, returning his hand to his side once Newt had shaken it and clenching it into a fist to stop himself from bursting at the seams with stress as Newt kept shooting curious glances at him as Dumbledore continued.

“I’m sorry to cut our meeting so short,” Dumbledore went on, “But I really must be returning Sylvia to her portkey.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Newt said, shaking Dumbledore’s hand and nodding at Credence as he stepped out of the way. “Don’t let me keep you, sir.” 

“Farewell, Mr Scamander,” Dumbledore said graciously, escorting Credence past Newt before turning back a few steps away where Newt was staring at the floor, a strange, thoughtful expression on his face. “And please don’t hesitate to write, I know you feel you lost a friend today, but friends are always closer than you think.”

Newt stared at Dumbledore, then caught Credence’s gaze once more before Dumbledore turned back to Credence, winking, as they stepped up to a floo hearth, took a handful of powder each and disappeared in a flash of green smoke.


	46. One Journey Ends: Another Begins

Credence reappeared in a small house. He wasn’t sure where it was, though when he looked outside of a small window on his right it was snowing and he thought he could see the spires of Hogwarts in the distance so it may have been Hogsmeade.

Dumbledore stepped confidently from the hearth, crossing to where a thick suitcase sat on a table, with a round bowl and vial beside it. Credence looked around the cosy, small, living room like he was in a dream. Unsure of what was happening or why Dumbledore was helping him.

Dumbledore snapped open the suitcase in front of him and checked over the contents within while Credence passed over to the bowl and the empty vial, looking inside.

Inside the bowl, lighting as Credence approached, white, pearly, vapour swirled.

“…I recognise this…” Credence murmured, brow furrowing. “…This is-“

“A pensieve.” Dumbledore answered, causing Credence to look up at the man where he was checking over the contents of the case and then snapping it closed. Dumbledore straightened and Credence realised how tired he looked, now that he wasn’t standing straight backed and confident, marching through the throngs of workers during their escape from the ministry. “It holds memories…Grindelwald used one to extort you-back in that factory.”

Credence looked away from his teacher as he spoke, glaring down into the bowl and clenching his small, female, fists.

“This is a different pensieve, my own, actually.” Dumbledore assured Credence, then walked over to the bowl, standing beside Credence where he stared into the hypnotic, swirling, waters of Dumbledore’s memories. 

“…Why is it here?” Credence asked, feeling himself strangely drawn to the liquid light shadows within in.

“Because I was using it.” Dumbledore said. “To clear my mind-before I rescued you.”

Credence tore his eyes away from the bowl’s surface to gaze at Dumbledore suspiciously while Dumbledore just reached into his robe and pulled out a familiar wand, holding the handle out to Credence.

“This is mine…” Credence whispered, taking it from him. Dumbledore nodded. “How did you…?”

“With much difficulty.” Dumbledore said sternly before digging into another pocket of his coat and pulling out a piece of folded parchment which he pressed into Credence’s hand. “This is the address of a man skilled in occlumency and legilimency. I’ve written ahead of you, to announce your impending arrival and desire for training. You will need to master both if you are to counteract the invasive attacks of Grindelwald on your mind,” 

“…My mind?” Credence asked, “…He can read my mind? Like that Goldstein woman?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said certainly, “He created a path from his mind to yours back in that factory and he will use every opportunity he can find to convince you to join him. But you must steel yourself. Learn to protect your mind even in sleep.”

“…Then my nightmares-“

“Influenced, already I’m afraid.” Dumbledore said, making Credence’s eyes go wide, recalling his horrible nightmare from only hours before. Dumbledore picked up the suitcase and held it out to Credence who took it, returning Dumbledore’s floral bag and staring at the man as he continued to speak, “You will have 24 hours before the Ministry notices you are missing. I am sorry, but I cannot aid you anymore than I already have. Do not return to New York-or contact any of your old friends before you have mastered the art of protecting your mind. It is absolutely vital that you do or Grindelwald will worm his way into your thoughts and attempt to convert you to his cause.”

“…How can you possibly know all this?” Credence asked, still not entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming again back in his cell.

Perhaps Grindelwald had already influenced him, for he felt very suspicious of Dumbledore despite the man being nothing but kind and helpful during their entire acquaintance. 

“I’ll explain one day. But not today, today you must keep moving,” Dumbledore said, guiding Credence back to the fire place and standing opposite him. “Now there is one last thing which I must give to you.”

Credence glanced down at Dumbledore’s hands where he pulled a nondescript stone ring from around his middle finger. He held out to Credence, who weighed it in his palm. Inside of it there were words scrawled along its interior.

“This is a ring designed some millennia ago to contain the evil spirit thought to be residing within the body of a muggle princess.” Dumbledore murmured. Credence looked up at Dumbledore, clutching the ring in his palm as Dumbledore stared at him imploringly. “More recently I have discovered that it will keep your obscurus from manifesting while you wear it-but cannot fall into the wrong hands-do you understand?”

“…Yes.” Credence whispered, clasping his hands around the ring protectively.

“…Good.” Dumbledore said. Patting Credence on the back and then quickly checking his pocket watch. “Ah, I’ve talked too long already, go on now Mr Barebone-and take up a new name. One which you have not worn already so that no one may recognise you ever again.”

“…Thank you,” Credence said as Dumbledore stood back from where Credence was standing on the hearth of his fireplace, holding a suitcase and his wand firmly in feminine hands. Eyes wide but full of conviction and wonder. “I don’t really understand-but I’m grateful.”

“…Hurry now, Credence.” Dumbledore said. “And may we meet again under better circumstances.”

Credence nodded, unfolded the parchment with the address on it which Dumbledore had given him, took up a handful of floo powder and then spoke the written words and vanished.

Dumbledore stared at the space where Credence had been for a few seconds before turning on the spot and very softly walking over to a door on the other side of the room. Dumbledore turned the handle and silently pushed it open, peering inside the bedroom as an eerily familiar man with a floral bag hooked over one arm fiddled very carefully with a golden orb on a chain and then simply faded from the spot.

Dumbledore sighed with relief and turned back to the pensieve.


	47. Revisions and Reunions

**3 years later.**

The crowded book store was finally beginning to thin out in Diagon Alley as Newt Scamander’s book signing of the third revision of Fantastic Beasts and where to find them finally came to an end. Witches and wizards chattered happily as they left the old store, clutching their signed books with wrapt expressions and filtering passed a woman in a red jacket where she was walking demurely against the flow of avid readers.

Behind a small table Newt sighed covertly once the last reader turned away, smiling at his assistant and dismissing him with a friendly hand shake as he packed up his case, dropping his quill and the last few unsold copies into his case while running a hand through his hair.

Grey scars still mottled the skin of his arms, hidden mostly by his shirt sleeves as Newt pushed himself to his feet and clicked his case closed. 

The woman in the red coat cleared her throat as she stood behind Mr Newt Scamander, who straightened, turning, with curious eyes. 

“Can I help you, miss…?” Newt stared as the woman in the red coat smiled, short, fashionable hair tailored around her jaw and a battered first edition of Fantastic Beasts clutched under one arm. Newt’s eyebrows suddenly shot up as he recognised her. “…Miss Berry?”

“We meet again at last, Mr Scamander.” Eliza said, taller now and with an air of confidence about her that had only increased with age. She took Newt’s hand where he offered it, mouth open but unable to speak. Eliza shook it firmly and then held out her old book. “I was wondering if I might ask you for another inscription, my Mother has read this through about a hundred times. I thought it would be nice to capture another signature before you became too impossibly famous to find...”

Newt finally chuckled at her, almost unable to believe his eyes as he hadn’t seen the young witch since Credence’s hearing and subsequent disappearance at the Ministry some years before.

“Of course, of course,” Newt said, nodding and beaming while Eliza just smiled back. Newt patted his coat before realising he’d just put away his quill. Eliza plucked a muggle pen from her pocket and held it out to Newt who smiled, taking it. “Thank you-how are you? Have you graduated?”

“Last year.” Eliza said, watching as Newt wrote a small message in the front of the book thanking Eliza’s mother for her readership and congratulating her on her recovery after the Grindelwald attacks some years earlier. “I’m very well thank you. I’ve gone into social work, it’s not terribly lucrative, but it’s rewarding enough. Muggles and magical folk alike have so many problems-if I can help at all, I will.”

Newt nodded at her, smiling and blowing on the ink on the paper as it dried. “Fantastic! Fantastic! I’m sure your help is appreciated wherever it is given.” Which made Eliza smile sincerely, before speaking again.

“…And how are you, Mr Scamander?” Eliza asked, “We didn’t really get a moment to speak after…The hearing. I wanted to thank you properly-for everything you did for us, saving Serpine and I like that, when you barely knew us at all and the way you rushed in to rescue-Credence-down in that awful tunnel? I’ll never forget it, not in my whole life…” She said seriously.

“Oh.” Newt smiled up at her then shrugged, closing the cover of her book and holding it out to her. “Well, we all do our part when we have to.”

“It’s nice to see your fame hasn’t damaged your natural inclination toward overwhelming modesty.” Eliza said fondly, making Newt go pink and shrug. “…Tell me, what are your plans this evening?” 

“…Oh,” Newt went redder still and swallowed, while Eliza laughed, waving a hand at him sympathetically.

“Don’t read too heavily into my invitation, Mr Scamander, I only ask as I was planning a small dinner with friends tonight and was wondering if you might be free to join us? I would love to catch up with you and hear about the terribly dangerous and exciting things you had to do in order to source your revisions for your third addition-and I have a friend visiting from out of town who is an avid fan of your work...”

“Ah!” Newt said, a little less awkward, “Well-I am free actually-“

“Splendid!” Eliza said before Newt could back track or come up with an excuse. “Then you’ll come? The dinner is scheduled for 5’o’clock sharp-and I can give you my new address so you can travel directly by floo if that is more convenient?”

Newt stuttered, cut off before he could even attempt a reason to decline then sighed, smiling fondly at Eliza who just watched him through gleaming, confident, eyes. Not even Grindelwald’s army or the loss of one of her closest friends could crush her audacity, it seemed.

“…I would be happy to join you.” Newt said and Eliza grinned before taking out a piece of paper and writing down her address. Once she was done she bought a new copy of Newt’s book then pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaning back only a little to murmur in his ear. 

“Please do come, Mr Scamander,” She said, “It’s always so wonderful to reunite with old friends and I may even have procured some orange juice for the occasion, as one of my guests is very partial to it…”

Newt nodded, a little thrown by the intimate gesture and just stared as Eliza winked at Newt and then turned, floating out of the book shop with the grace of a woman who was definitely up to something-but knew exactly what she was doing.

It wasn’t until Newt was walking home, case in hand, that he began to wonder about the orange juice comment.

\---

Newt had no idea what to wear to a dinner party with Elizabeth Berry. Something told him that it was not going to be a suit and tie event, though another part of him worried that it might also be some kind of ball or perhaps a confusing romantic parlour party-which his brother had attempted to lure him to on more than one occasion.

Newt didn’t really have a lot of clothes-since he’d only just returned from a trip around Australia attempting to capture the world’s first bunyip and had stuffed most of his suits and shirts with grass and laid them out by various river beds in an attempt to lure the creature from the waters-losing them as it disappeared with the faux-human cloth dolls before Newt could catch it. Taking almost all of his wardrobe with it.

So Newt had few choices when it came to what to wear and not enough time to go out and buy something else-ending in him in his old blue coat where the sleeves were still a little ratty from where he’d attempted to repair it after Credence’s obscurus ate through his clothes and scarred his arms.

Newt thought back on Credence for the first time in a long while and found himself walking through his case toward a large trunk hidden behind a book shelf which held some of his most precious things.

Newt reached into the trunk and pulled out a smaller box. He tapped his wand against it and it opened. Inside of this box there was a grey jacket, some newspaper clippings and a handful of orange juice lids which he set aside. Beneath these things was a carefully folded letter which Newt smoothed out, reading the familiar type written note for the 100th time.

NS

I can’t say where I am or where I’m going. But I’m well. I’m safe. 

I’m writing to thank you. For everything. It’s impossible to tell you how thankful I am or how much I care for you and it will take longer than I have. 

I’m sorry again for all the trouble I’ve caused in your life.  
But selfishly glad for your friendship while it lasted.

Thank you. A hundred times.

C

PS  
Give my hat to Dougal and thank Picket for me.

Newt stared down at the letter and sighed, folding it back up and placing it back into the tiny case along with the grey jacket and juice lids. He put the trunk away, locking it and hiding it again and stood up. 

Behind him Dougal appeared, climbing up the back of his leg and sniffing his wrists and hands before looking up at Newt with large, blue eyes, which Newt missed, patting the demiguise and lost in memories of the past.

\---

“Oh! You’re early!” Eliza said as Newt stepped through her fire place and into her small but tastefully decorated apartment. Newt smiled a little awkwardly, certain he was on time as it was 5’oclock on the dot. Eliza took his free hand (as the other one was holding tightly to his case) and led him into the living room, where everything was red and warm and covered in curtains that reminded Newt strangely of the curtains in opera houses.

“I’m sorry, I thought I was on time-my watch must be slow…” Newt said, frowning.

“No! That’s no problem at all!” Eliza said beaming before snapping her fingers with a serious frown, “Oh drat! I just remembered I promised to grab something while I was out! Here, sit, I’ll set out some tea and be back before you know it!”

Newt nodded, not really in a place to argue as he was pushed down onto a soft couch, case at his side, while Eliza waved her wand and a tea pot and cups began flying into action. A set of two, placing themselves in front of Newt and brewing and steaming in front of his eyes.

“Oh-I-are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be the first face your guests see if they arrive similarly early-“ Newt said a little awkwardly.

“Oh, no, no I wouldn’t worry about that!” Eliza said with a small smile on her face as she pulled her coat and hat back on. She crossed to Newt, squeezing his hands and beaming at him, “You will stay, won’t you? I’ll be right back…?”

Newt stared up at the young woman currently endearing him with wide, brown, eyes.

“…I’ll just-help myself to tea then.” Newt said a little uncomfortably.

Eliza grinned and gave Newt’s hands a final squeeze before she crossed to the fire place, stopping to glance at the clock for a moment before she took up a handful of floo powder and turned over her shoulder quickly, “I’ll be back soon!”

With that she was gone, headed in the direction of Diagon Alley.

Newt sat where he’d been left, watching as the tea cups in front of him were magically filled with tea by the hovering teapot in front of him. The spoon from the sugar bowl placed one cube of sugar in one cup and none in the other. Newt took the one without sugar, sipping it quietly in the silence that followed. He looked around the room and noticed the tiny details that began to paint a picture about Eliza’s life.

There were a few photos on her mantle, one of which featured Madeline Dawson, a young Quidditch player in the Chudley Cannons winking at Newt in her teams uniform, one of Serpine Fiddleson beside Eliza during their graduating year, hugging and one of Eliza’s mother, holding Newt’s book and looking confused, as if she wasn’t certain how wizarding cameras worked.

Newt chuckled at the last one then tilted his head as he noticed a frame subtly hidden behind the others. He got up, taking his tea with him and crossed to it, picking it up and staring at it.

It was a photo of Serpine, Eliza and Credence, standing in front of a Christmas backdrop at Hogsmeade (with, Newt noticed with a smirk, full glasses of something bubbly). Credence looked awkwardly out of place but smiled as Eliza raised her glass and the other two mirrored her-only Serpine and Eliza paused just before drinking while Credence threw his back and then broke out in an uncontrollable burst of laughter, covering his mouth while Serpine and Eliza in the photo laughed too.

Newt put the picture back after a while where he’d found it, tucking it behind the others and looked up when he heard the front door beginning to rattle.

Newt stared like a deer in headlights, unprepared for small talk with a total stranger (or worse, being caught like some kind of robber looking at Eliza’s private photographs) as a man with long, light brown hair piled on top of his head walked inside.

“Eliza-did you remember to get that-“

The man at the door looked up and froze, staring at Newt, who stared back with just as much bewilderment in his eyes.

The face was different, subtly, the complexion more tanned, more freckled, with tired rings under the eyes which were now a dark green. The hair too was lighter, brown, auburn almost and curled. 

But there was no mistaking who stared back at Newt, a battered black suitcase in one hand, the door knob in the other as he stared from the entrance, holding in a short breath.

“…Credence?” Newt asked, as the young, freckled, gentleman in the long, dark coat just stared at him, blinking owlishly, in silence.

The man stared at Newt, before he smiled sheepishly.

“She went to your book signing, didn’t she?” A very familiar voice said on the end of a fond sigh.

Newt grinned, putting his tea cup down on the mantle and crossing to hug the freckled man who dropped his suitcase to meet him.

FIN


End file.
